


Collect Your Things, You're Coming With Me

by FatCatOfficial



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Babe finds himself up shit creek repeatedly, M/M, Modern AU, Ridin' cross the land, kickin up sand, longfic, mostly babe-centric, traveling across the united states, winnix starts in ch 6 if you squint, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatCatOfficial/pseuds/FatCatOfficial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Babe was having a hard time believing what the Sherriff was saying.</p><p>“So, lemme get this straight. You’re saying there’s some kind of weird plague going on, and people are what? Attacking each other? And we didn’t notice any of this shit goin’ down until now? What is this, ‘World War Z? Should we be expectin’ Brad Pitt-”</p><p>“Babe, stop bein’ an idiot-" Julian interrupted.</p><p>“Whose side are you on-"</p><p>“-this has more of a ’28 Days Later’ vibe.“</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looks Like We're In For Nasty Weather

**Author's Note:**

> I know I marked the warning for major violence, but I just feel like I need to say it myself as well: This is a zombie fic. There will blood and body horror. It’s not extremely detailed, but it will be happening.
> 
> This is a fan-work based entirely off of the actor's portrayals in the HBO mini-series Band Of Brothers; no disrespect to the real men of Easy Company. I own nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: This is now edited! I’ve added stuff and rewrote some parts so please give it another read before you move on to the next chapter! Thanks!!  
> Also, I know I marked the warning for major violence, but I just feel like I need to say it myself as well: This is a zombie fic. There will blood and body horror. It’s not extremely detailed, but it will be happening.
> 
> This is a fan-work based entirely off of the actor's portrayals in the HBO mini-series Band Of Brothers; no disrespect to the real men of Easy Company. I own nothing. The title of this fic is taken from the song "When the World Ends" By Dave Matthews Band and the title of this chapter is from "Bad Moon Rising" By Creedence Clearwater Revival

_“The following message is transmitted at the request of the Pennsylvania State Police Department. Civil authorities have issued the following warning for the citizens of Pennsylvania. Hospitals and townships across the State are reporting strains of a highly contagious viral agent. Symptoms may include high fever and in advanced cases delusions and irrational behavior. It is advised to stay away from any persons demonstrating these symptoms. Authorities request that citizens stay in their homes until further notice as the situation is handled.”  
-Emergency Broadcast System: Pennsylvania; 7:33 AM, Wednesday, April 1--th, 201-- – 5:57 PM, Sunday August --th, 201--_

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Babe Heffron didn’t regret a whole lot about his life. He’d moved out at nineteen and secured a small drafty apartment just a few blocks from his parents, who he regularly visited for lazy Sunday afternoons after church. He’d gone straight into the work force right after high school, forgoing a secondary education as the college student per household quota had been filled by his older brother and younger sister. Besides, Babe had always been more of a labor man than a student and his job at the docks was much more interesting than studying.

He did, however, regret letting his friends drag him to a bar on a Tuesday night in mid April. He’d been very firm in the idea that he would only have a couple of drinks and then head home, as he was trying to act the part of the working, responsible adult that he now was. That’s why he stumbled in the door at a little past two in the morning, his head swimming and four pairs of feet instead of two and why he woke up with a pounding headache, a dead phone, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Miraculously, he’d somehow managed to set his alarm but ended up hitting the snooze button repeatedly because _really_ , what was a hung over man to do when faced with loud noises early in the morning. This meant he missed his morning radio show, which usually wouldn’t have mattered. However, Wednesdays in April were pick-up days where Babe would drive to a couple of random towns through out Pennsylvania, gathering packages for his boss before working the night shift. And by missing his radio show and thus, the traffic report, he was almost guaranteed to hit backed up cars somewhere in the city. Which meant he was definitely going to be late. He took a moment to curse himself and his friends before sliding into his car.

But apparently luck was on his side today. He didn’t hit any traffic on his way out of the city. Normally this would have unnerved him because when had the streets of South Philly ever been this empty? But to a bleary-eyed and viciously hung-over Babe, it was a blessing. The only issue he had heading out of the city was a woman who was wandering aimlessly in the middle of the road. He’d honked and swerved around her before speeding off, cursing the weirdos who were always lurking around in the early hours of the morning. 

When he did hit traffic, it was when he least expected it. He’d been heading down the familiar two-lane road that led to the little town where he usually made his first pickup when he had to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting the car in front of him.

“…the hell?” Babe muttered to himself.

He’d driven this road every Wednesday for four months and had hardly ever seen another vehicle on it. And now there was car after car backed up across both lanes. He rolled down his window and tried to look around the smattering of cars that were cluttering up the road. He could barely make out the front but he could see that the road opened up again after about a dozen cars. He figured what ever the problem was would work itself out soon so he capitalized on his brief stop to root around for some advil and get a cigarette in.

Thirty minutes later saw Babe in the exact same spot he’d ended up in when he’d slammed on the breaks. His boss was usually pretty lenient on delivery days when Babe came in late and swearing about traffic, but he was definitely going to be yelling at him today. Part of Babe wanted to leave and just finish the rest of his route, but he was stuck. More cars had trickled in behind him, closing off his only escape route.

Fifteen minutes later and Babe was seconds away from smacking his head against the wheel. He’d never been one to handle boredom with grace. Normally, he’d be fiddling away with the stupid apps on his phone, but since it was dead and sitting on his counter at home the only sources of entertainment in his rusty old pickup were the radio, which hadn’t worked in over a year and a yellowed sudoku book that the previous owner had left. 

That’s why when the door next to his car opened and spilled out a tall, lanky guy who couldn’t have been more than nineteen, Babe eagerly leaned across his middle counsel and rolled the passengers side window down.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Babe, desperate for any kind of interaction, nearly shouted at the poor boy.

“Jesus!” The guy squeaked, whirling to face Babe, “Give a guy a little warning!”

“Sorry!” Babe shot him a toothy grin, “I’m goin’ a little crazy just sittin here.”

“You and me both,” The guy said over his shoulder as he fiddled with something in the backseat, “I’m thinkin there’s gotta be something wrong with the cars up there since we haven’t moved an inch in,” He checked his watch, “about an hour. And seein’ as I’m a mechanic, I can probably help get this show on the road.”

Babe sighed and looked up through the line of cars, before coming back to the guy, “You mind an extra set of hands? I dunno how much longer I can stand just sittin’ round like this.”

The kid lugged a tool kit out of his back seat before turning back to Babe, his big brown eyes crinkled up in a grin, “Not at all.”

Babe smiled back and slid out of his car, holding out his hand, “Babe Heffron.”

The kid shook his hand, “John Julian, but most people call me Julian.”

“Nice to meet ya, Julian.” Babe said as he grabbed the other handle of the tool kit and started down the road.

“So, Babe, huh? That a nickname or were your parents that confident in their genes?”

oOo

As they got to the front, it didn’t take long to figure out why they were stopped randomly. There were three police cars blocking the path, a couple of detention vehicles, and about a half a dozen officers patting people down and asking questions. There was a line of people getting into a bus that was just past the police cars and two groups of people sitting along the side of the road.

“Is this a DUI check point?” Julian asked Babe.

“If it is, this it’s the weirdest one I’ve ever seen.” Babe responded, watching as an officer cuffed an older woman and lead her over to one of the groups of people sitting along the road.

Julian huffed and set the tool kit down, “Lugged this shit up here for no reason then. Least we got our work out in for the day right-“

“What are you two doing out of your vehicles?” An officer intercepted them, his calm voice at odds with the way he was casually pointing his gun at them.

“We uh- we thought there was a problem with a coupla the cars up here and I’m a mechanic so we thought we could help-“ Julian stuttered, his eyes on the gun.

“No. Nothing like that,” The officer looked them over, his eyes barely visible under the bill of his hat, “Return to your vehicles.” 

“Yeah, obviously.” Babe snarked. He was late and cranky and there was no way he was about to go back and die from boredom in his car with out a reason. Julian sent him a wide-eyed ‘please don’t fuck with the officer look.’

Babe ignored him, “What is this? Some kind of DUI check point?”

“No.” The officer had shifted his attention, and his gun, to Babe, “Go back to your car.” His voice held a note of finality as he turned to walk away.

“Hey, wait a minute! You gotta at least tell us what’s goin’ on, you got a lot of antsy people out there-“ Babe said, reaching for the officers arm.

Babe’s friends always said his mouth had a knack of getting him in deeper shit than he was already in. And they were right. Before he knew it, he was being slammed up against the side of a car, with the barrel of a gun pressed to the underside of his chin and the officer in his face.

“I know you didn’t just try to touch an officer.” The cop’s voice was low but terrifying as he towered over Babe. Babe stole a glance over the officer’s shoulder, trying to make eye contact with Julian. He could see the people in line eying them warily and Julian just about shitting himself as a big man with a shiny Sherriff’s badge walked over.

“There a problem over here?” The Sherriff stopped in front of them. Babe didn’t like the way he shifted his hand to the holster on his belt.

Babe watched with amazement as Julian, who must have been used to slipping out of sticky situations with the way he put on his biggest doe eyes, turned to the man and proceeded to lay it on thick, “Oh no, officer, everything’s fine. My buddy here’s just worked up cuz he’s got a sister in the hospital-“

Babe sighed in relief. Julian was a genius. The sister bit always worked-

“What for?”

Or not.

The intended cover up back-fired as the cop got more intimidating, pressing the barrel of the gun closer to Babe’s rapidly pumping carotid. 

“Hey, hey!” Julian yelped stepping forward. The officer sent him a withering look and Julian visibly paled.

“She’s pregnant! Her boyfriends a dick and walked out on her, and Babe promised he’d be there for her.” Julian gave Babe an exaggerated look and silently pleaded with him to go along with it.

“Yeah,” Babe coughed out, “She’s a mess. Only nineteen and the fucker promised her he’d stay, proposed and everything. Next day, boom. Gone. So I- uh I kinda promised her I’d be there so she could at least break someone’s hand, even if its not her boyfriends.”

The officer narrowed his eyes at Babe. Babe tried to take a page from Julian’s book and gave him his most innocent look. The Sherriff put a hand on the officer’s shoulder but neither his hard stare nor his gun wavered from Babe. 

“I’ll take care o’ this. Why don’t you head back over to the line and keep checkin’ people in?” The Sherriff said to the officer. The officer took a moment to consider the offer, drawing out the moment and pressing the gun just a little harder into Babe’s neck before pushing away from him slowly. Babe gasped as he was released from the emotional and physical weight of the gun. The cop gave one last look that sent shivers up Babe’s spine, but headed back over to the small line. Babe rubbed at his neck.

The Sherriff sighed and his shoulders slumped, “Sorry bout him, he’s just paranoid. And with everythin’ that’s goin on, can’t really blame him.”

Babe, cowed by the memory of the gun at his throat, furrowed his brow and shared a terrified glance with Julian, “With what goin’ on? This check point thing you got?” He tried to keep the tremor in his voice in check and failed miserably.

The Sherriff was silent as he studied them, “You fella’s really don’t know? What are you two doing out on the road so early?”

“I’m picking up parts.” Julian muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Babe could see Julian subtly shuffling so that Babe was directly between him and the Sherriff. He scowled. What a little shit.

“’m pickin’ up some things for work too.” Babe answered shifting just enough to be out of the middle, “To be honest Sir, I’ve never seen this many people heading into your town.”

The big man frowned down at them, “Jesus, you don’t know. With your sister bein’ pregnant and in the hospital you shoulda heard something. Assuming that’s where she really is.” He sent a knowing look to Julian, who’s face washed with red.

Babe took ahold of the conversation, “Let’s assume that my sister isn’t one for hospital check ups. She’s a bit of a naturalist. What would we be hearin’ if she went in regularly?” 

The Sherriff pursed his lips, “You’d be hearing about that virus that’s been going around.”

Babe tried to wrack his brain for any memory of a virus in the news but all he came up with was the outbreak of H1N1 and ebola from years ago.

Apparently Julian had heard of it because he piped up, “You mean that harmless one? People aren’t even getting vaccinated for that anymore, it barely even gives you a cough.”

The Sherriff was quiet for a moment before he spoke, “Yeah, well it ain’t so harmless anymore. People are gettin’ violent. Unreasonable. And it’s spreadin’. Lot of these people here are tryin’ to escape it. That’s why we’re searchin ‘em. Can’t let any of that touch our people, we’ve already had enough trouble with it.”

Babe caught Julian’s eye. There was a beat of silence before they both burst out in peels of laughter. Oh, that was good! Babe looked up to the Sherriff, expecting him to be chuckling along.

He wasn’t.

He had his arms crossed in front of him and was pining them with a look that would have made Babe’s mother proud.

Their laughter trailed off slowly into awkward chuckles.

“You boys done?”

“You’re serious?” Babe asked, incredulous.

“As the grave.” 

Babe pursed his lips, “So, lemme get this straight. You’re saying there’s some kind of weird plague going on, and people are what? Attacking each other? And we didn’t notice any of this shit goin’ down until now? What is this, ‘World War Z? Should we be expectin’ Brad Pitt-”

“Babe, stop bein’ stupid-“ Julian interrupted.

“Whose side are you on anyway-“ Babe snarked back.

“-this has more of a ’28 Days Later’ vibe-“ Julian argued.

The Sherriff sighed, “Look, I know how it sounds. I didn’t believe it ‘til I saw it myself. And we might be overreactin’ but it’s better safe than sorry with the shit we’ve seen-”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on, seen?” Babe interrupted, “What do you mean _seen_?”

Julian looked like he was torn between wanting to punch Babe out for challenging another person of authority and eying the Sherriff, desperate to hear what he was going to say.

The Sherriff drew himself up to his full height and Babe knew their window for information was coming to a close, “Don’t worry about it. We’ve just had some mishaps over the last couple of weeks. It’s probably nothing, but we want to make sure before we start letting people into our town.”

Babe shot Julian an incredulous glance, “You know that sounds great and all but-“

“Listen,” The Sherriff interrupted, “Where you boys from?”

“Philly.” Babe said, gesturing to Julian, “Him too.”

The Sherriff nodded, “Lot of big cities ain’t tellin’ people. They wanna handle it with out causing unnecessary panic.”

Babe was a little incredulous. The Sherriff seemed to have a explanation for everything but hadn’t actually told them anything, “I’m gonna be honest with you sir, this sounds like a whole bunch of bullshit.”

The Sherriff rubbed his brow, “Listen boys, you can believe what you want. But let me make you a proposition. You stay here for the night, you get checked out by the hospital, and get some warm food. If this all blows over in the morning, you can go on home.”

Julian picked the worst time to jump on Babe’s authority defying train and challenged the Sherriff, “Or what?

“Or we arrest you and hold you in a cell until we decide you’re safe to go.” The Sherriff leveled them with a powerful look.

So much for getting back in time for dinner.

 

oOo

 

“Fuckin’ hell, it’s hot.” Babe hissed, resting his head against his knees as the sweat rolled down his back.

After their less than reassuring conversation with the Sherriff, they’d been briefly checked over and relocated to one of the groups on the side of the road. Babe just thanked his stars that the officers didn’t see fit to cuff them.

“You owe me a fuckin’ drink after this shit’s over.” Julian grumbled next to him.

“As long as I can drink it with you.” Babe muttered into his arms.

“Hell, I’m still workin’ out if I ever wanna see your face again.” Julian glared at him.

“Hey, none of this is my fault. Plus, you can’t tell me you believe any of this shit they’re sayin’. Even if it was true, we’d have seen _something_ if people were attackin’ other people.”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about you not listening to that cop. You coulda just left it be-“

“Yeah, and we would still be sittin’ in our cars, not knowing what kinda dystopian shit we were walkin’ in to.” Babe huffed, fishing around in his pocket for his smokes.

Julian sighed and dropped his face into his hands, “My ma’s gonna kill me.” He whined miserably.

Babe silently agreed. His mom was going to beat the living daylights out of him for getting involved with the police again.

He sighed and tapped two cigarettes out. 

“Smoke?” He offered one to Julian.

“You’re a helluva bad influence, you know that?”

Babe smiled serenely.

Julian took the cigarette.

oOo

It was about twenty minutes later when shit hit the fan.

Babe and Julian had been steadily working their way through his pack discussing how they were going to explain this shit to their employers when the sound of tires skidding and crunching metal reverberated through the air, followed by sounds of doors slamming and loud yelling.

“What the hell.” Babe mumbled, craning his neck, trying to get a good look at the crash. He couldn’t see much past the first row of cars, but he could make out a plume of smoke curling up toward the sky and a few people hopping out of their cars to get a better look.

“Someone’s a bad driver-“ He joked.

An ear-splitting scream cut through his joke. The hairs on the back of Babe’s neck were on end instantly. He’d never heard a human being make a noise that desperate outside of a movie.

“Babe, holy shit! Babe! Look!” Julian was gripping his arm and pointing but Babe didn’t need his guidance. His eyes were already glued to the scene unfolding in front of him.

And holy shit was right. Unlike their group, the people in the group next to them had been hand cuffed, but it wasn’t stopping them from tearing each other apart. The older woman who’d Babe had seen before had her teeth sunk into a little girl no older than seven, who was screaming ‘Grandma stop!’ There was man, leaning comatose against the road railing as another dug into his neck, sending blood splattering everywhere. The others that had been in that group were screaming and struggling to get away, not able to get up with their hands cuffed behind their backs. The smell of blood and the sound of ripping tendons drove Babe’s head between his knees to empty his stomach. He was barely finished before Julian was hauling him to his feet and shouting about running. They’d hardly made it ten feet before the sound of gunfire drove them to their knees, hands scrambling to cover their heads. whole lot of good that was going to do them. They turned to the source and watched as the policeman from before opened fire on the group, sending the people who’d managed to get up straight back to the ground with unerring accuracy.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Babe yelled desperately, staggering to his feet, “Stop! Stop it! They’re people, you can’t just-” 

Julian grabbed his arm and pulled him back, “Babe we can’t do anything about it! We gotta go!”

That sounded like a good idea. Babe wanted to be very far away. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t _breathe_. All he could do was watch as living, breathing people were mowed down in front of him, hitting the pavement and not getting up again. There was a guy, young like him, on the ground struggling to crawl away, bleeding profusely from a wound to his neck. They locked eyes and his blood stained mouth was moving, maybe trying to form words or gasping at the air. Babe tried to make his body go forward to help, to do something, but he was not in control anymore. It was like his systems had shut down until he could understand what the hell was going on. 

The guy’s eyes never left Babe’s, even as the barrel of a gun pressed again the back of his head, execution style. Babe could only watch as the terror washed over his face before the force of the bullet sent his head bouncing against the ground. 

Babe’s brain kept tripping over how unrealistic every portrayal of being shot in the head was. There was no slow motion. No last profound moment. It was just over. The glint bouncing off the gun drew Babe’s eyes away from the bloody mess. His wide eyes followed the path of the hand holding the gun to the arm to the body. The same officer that had threatened Babe and shot all those people was standing over the body. He looked absolutely terrifying with his hat pulled low over his face and blood smeared across his pale cheeks. His eyes were the worst. They were barely visible under the brim, but as he lifted his head Babe could see the wild gleam.

How did Babe know this? The cop was staring right at him.

Babe’s body finally caught up with his mind and he turned to run, shouting, “Shit, Julian-“

But Julian was already being pulled to a squad car by another cop. And suddenly the officer was right next to him. He had Babe by the arm before he could even think about escaping and was dragging him to a police car.

“Get in.” He growled to Babe.

Like hell he was getting in that car. 

“No way-“ Babe was interrupted by the officer’s fist connecting with his nose, the force of the blow sent him reeling back against the door, smacking his head against the car and _Jesus Christ_ it hurt. There was screaming coming from inside the car and his mind foggily labeled the voice “Julian.”

“Fuck you.” He spat, gripping his nose and meeting the officer with a glare.

For the second time that day Babe found himself face to face with a gun and the officer’s glittering eyes on him, “Get in the God damn car,” the hot metal touched his forehead, “or I’ll give it a new red and pink paint job.” 

An “Oh.” Was all Babe could manage before the cop was yanking the door open and shoving Babe inside. He smacked his head on the shoulder of someone else in the car. He wanted to yell obscenities at the officer but the door was slammed in his face and all he could do was watch with spinning vision as the cop sprinted back out into the fray. His face was still smooshed against the shoulder of the person occupying the middle seat. He tilted his head up intent on apologizing but all that came out was a jumble of mismatched words.

The man didn’t even acknowledge him, which Babe thought was pretty rude. His head just kept lulling from side to side as the car started speeding along over the uneven road. Upon closer inspection, Babe, even through his fuzzy vision, could tell the man was in bad shape. There was blood leaking from a cut in his lip, spilling down his shirt and he held his arm at an awkward angle.

Babe could kind of sort of hear Julian yelling at him. But the car felt like it had filled with water. The light was slow and filtered and the sounds around him were muffled and far away. Babe smiled and tried to drift forward to tell Julian that they were swimming. But the car was not full of water and instead of slowly moving forward Babe’s head thudded against the partition. His face felt like it was stuck to the glass. But he wasn’t too concerned about it. He was content to finally be steady.

Babe knew that Julian was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull his head up from where it rested. It continued on like that for a while and Babe was just about to let himself slip under when Julian started to scream. Loudly. It wasn’t like before. This was honest to God “screaming-for-my-life” kind of loud. Even in his concussed state, Babe could hear the panic. He tried to turn his head and it slipped from where it was sliding across the partition and he finally managed to get a glimpse of Julian. He could just barely see him underneath the man from the middle. He was looming over Julian, pulling at his shirt with gray hands. Julian was desperately pushing him off, but the man was completely unfazed. Julian managed to get a foot on the man’s chest and delivered a desperate kick. The man rammed into Babe and his world was brought sharply back into focus. 

There was noise all around him. The sound of the wind whipping around the car. The snarls and moans from the man in the middle. Julian’s desperate yelling.

“-Jesus Christ, Babe! Fuckin’ help me!” Julian screamed as the man recovered from the kick and lunged at him again, 

“What’s goin’ on?” He slurred out, grabbing at the back of the man’s shirt and trying to pull him off.

“Fuck if I know!” Julian squeaked as the man shoved off of him and turned to Babe. He expected punches but he got teeth instead. He managed to get his hands braced against the man’s neck but it didn’t stop his jaw from working over time, the sound of his teeth clacking loudly. Babe’s brain brought him back to the side of the road where the damage had been dealt through bites.

Julian was yelling, trying to verbally persuade the man to _‘fucking stop, Jesus Christ!’_ while trying to manhandle him away from Babe. The man seemed to remember his hands as they began pulling at Babe. The Sherriff’s words came back to him as he was faced with blood stained teeth and cloudy eyes.

_‘People are gettin’ violent. Unreasonable.'_

Babe didn’t want to believe the Sherriff. Life was not a million dollar Hollywood production horror flick and yet, here he was, facing down a person more interested in getting his teeth into Babe’s jugular than the fact that Babe had his hands wrapped around his neck. 

“Shit!” Babe hissed through clenched teeth as the man lunged again, almost slipping through his precarious grip on the man’s throat. Babe felt like he was slipping under the surface again with only his adrenalin helping him hold on. 

Suddenly the oppressive weight was gone, hauled off of him by skinny arms. The man was bucking against Julian who was still screaming at the man to calm the fuck down. A sinking realization washed over Babe. The man would never calm down. He would continue to be violent, continue to be unreasonable. And Babe and Julian would end up just like that little girl with a hole torn out of her neck or the man with his organs laying on the road next to him.

They needed to get him out of the car. Now.

His hand clumsily found the door handle and frantically pulled at it but it wouldn’t budge. Babe wasted no time turning to the partition. The officer in the passenger seat was trying to train his gun on the man but he was moving too much. Babe pounded on the glass until his hand split. The officer in the passenger seat turned, bewildered, and locked eyes with Babe.

“Unlock the car!” Babe screamed, “fuckin’ unlock-“

The soft click of the doors unlocking rang through the back seat like a gong. The car slowed as Babe threw the door open. He locked eyes with Julian and unbuckled the man. And then Julian released him. The man lunged for Babe but Julian had got a foot under him and gave him a final shove. The extra force sent him straight over Babe and toppling out of the car.

Babe leaned his head out of the car and watched as the body tumbled to a stop. He sucked his sigh of relief back in when he saw the body struggle to its feet and stumble after them. That fall should have killed him, or at least broke enough important parts to keep him on the ground. 

He didn’t have a lot of time to mull over his thoughts as the car started speeding up again and sent the open door smacking into Babe’s already sensitive head.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He whined, rubbing at his head and looking over at Julian. He’d braced himself against the corner of car, his arms pressing him as far back as he could go. He was staring at the door with wide eyes.

“Julian,” His voice leaked out, thick, slow, and a thousand miles away, “you good?”

“…we-we just killed someone.” He stuttered out, eyes not leaving the door.

“No, he was fucked anyway.” Babe’s vision was seriously swimming now and he had to close his eyes against to block out the nausea.

“Babe, we just threw someone out of a moving vehicle-“

“The Sherriff was on to somethin’. ‘Violent, unreasonable’.” Babe recited. He clapped his hands over his eyes, trying to block out residual movement, “Are you good?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m fine,” Julian’s voice sounded defeated and tinny, like he was on Babe’s grandpa’s old television set, “I’m more worried about you, to be honest.”

“Nah I’m,” Babe’s stomach rolled, “I’m fan-fuckin’ tastic.” His words slurred and his tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of his mouth. He let his head fall back on to the seat.

He could feel Julian prodding and poking at him and he felt like he should respond but his head was so heavy and he was so tired. Maybe if he rested for a few minutes he’d feel better…

“Babe!” 

Julian was yanking Babe’s hands away from his eyes and suddenly the world spinning violently in front of his eyes.

“Babe you gotta stay awake, I think you‘ve got a concussion!” Julian’s voice was desperate as he tried to shake Babe back into consciousness.

Babe’s head was pounding, “Julian-“ He grabbed at his arms, “ya gotta stop shakin-“ He barely had enough time to rip himself away from Julian and duck his head in between his knees before he was puking again.

“Jesus, Babe!” 

“’m fine Jules.” Babe slurred, trying to smack Julian’s hands away, “Peachier than peachy.”

“Babe-“

“No no. Shhhhhh.” Babe reached forward to put his finger on Julian’s lips trying to get him to stop being so loud, but the car jerked to a stop and he missed, sending him sprawling across the seat.

Abruptly the door swung open and a strong set of hands were pulling Babe from the car. Babe had thought the inside of the car had been as nauseating as it was going to get. He was wrong. He was vastly unprepared for the direct sunlight and cacophony of sounds that assaulted him. Police sirens were blaring in every direction and people near him were yelling and screaming. He desperately clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise.

He was propped up against the police car briefly as the person who had hauled him from the car checked him over before swinging their arm around him and trying to pull him forward. Babe tried to cooperate. He really did. He kept putting one foot in front of the other, but it was always too slow and he kept tripping. 

Finally, someone took pity on the stumbling mess they were and came up on Babe’s other side and helped drag him along.

“Fuck, Babe, you’re heavy as hell.” Someone grunted next to him.

“Fuck off.” He mumbled, trying to swing his head to look at them, “’m very fit.”

He wasn’t sure how long they struggled to move forward but suddenly Babe was laying down on something. He thanked every deity he knew that he was finally horizontal. Then he was moving again. He could tell by the way the lights over him kept passing him by. At first he tried to count them but his eyes kept fluttering shut and he’d miss a few. He kept forcing his eyes open. Someone told him he couldn’t sleep, that it was dangerous. That didn’t make sense to Babe. Sleeping was the best. But he gave it his best shot. He tried to count again, but now the lights were zipping past his eyes, moving too fast to count. There were spots dancing around the corners of his vision, beckoning him to come with them. 

Babe gave up and let his eyes fall shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at fanfic in almost 7 years. Here's hoping that it's not as bad as my first one.  
> I'm super open to comments and criticisms. If you really absolutely hated it, let me know why! I'm trying to learn as I go with this.
> 
> I'm on  tumblr  if you want to stop in and say hi!


	2. Waking Up at the Start of the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe has a rough morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow its been a while. There are a couple of reasons why its taken so long but the first and most important is: I added some stuff/rewrote parts of the first chapter! I reread it and I kind of hated it. The events are the same and the characters end up in the same places, I just edited/added some stuff to it so please give it a look!
> 
> I also have to apologize for this chapter, its one of two in betweens to kind of establish the scene before we get into the real plot. It's pretty heavy in dialogue. I wanted it to be brief but my brain just wouldn't let me rest until I got it all down and it ended up being a fourteen page monster.
> 
> Again, no disrespect to the real men of Easy Company. This is a work of fiction based on the actors portrayals in the HBO mini series. The title is taken from the song "How Far We've Come" by Matchbox 20.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Beep_

Babe, like any rowdy South Philadelphian, had plenty of mornings where he woke up with no idea where he was. 

This was one of them. 

_Beep_

He’d been drifting along the blurry line between unconscious and conscious when the sound invaded his head. It was repetitive, dragging him out of his trance and back into the world.

_Beep_

He groaned as he breached consciousness. His head was fuzzy and his whole body felt like a rock, sinking into the mattress. The air felt thin and artificial as he took a deep inhale to try to orient himself. He knew to keep his eyes squeezed shut until he got his bearings on his body. There were too many mornings where he woke up feeling excellent after a night of drinking only to roll out of bed and end up with his head in the toilet until noon because he misjudged his hangover.

Which was what this feeling must have been because he couldn’t remember what the hell he’d done last night, his head was pounding, and he felt like he’d been out for years. What Babe wanted to know was why he was awake so God damn early. It was obviously still dark out. If it had been a reasonable hour the sun would have invaded his room already.

_Beep_

Oh. His alarm.

_Beep_

He couldn’t even remember setting the damn thing.

_Beep_

He wanted to smash it.

As his hand rose to do just that, he realized two things. One, he couldn’t move his hand more than a couple inches before it was met with resistance. As his eyes popped open in surprise, he was confronted with realization number two: he wasn’t in his apartment. His vision was hazy but he could tell he was in a dated hospital room complete with an ancient floral curtain pulled to the side and a monster of a TV hanging precariously from the wall. There was an anxiousness clawing its way through his chest as he tried to pull his hands from where they’d been strapped to the rails along the side of the bed.

He was no stranger to waking up in bad situations, which usually went hand in hand with waking up with no idea where you were, but this was by far one of the worst. He had no idea which hospital he was in, he had no idea what the he’d done last night, but it obviously wasn’t good judging by the way he was strapped to the bed. He hadn’t been lying to Julian when he said his ma would kill him if he got in trouble with the law again. It was usually because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but this felt serious.

Wait, Julian?

Babe paused. Who the hell was Julian? Sirens and red and blue lights flashed at the edge of his memory and eerie screams echoed around his head. A cold sweat broke across his body at the half remembered night. The gaps were quickly going from inconvenient to terrifying.

He tried to take deep breaths to quell the distress invading his brain but each gulp of air felt shallow, like there just wasn’t enough oxygen for him to properly breathe. He knew the clear plastic cup over his mouth was responsible for his air supply, but he needed more. He unconsciously reached to rip it off but let out a frustrated groan when he couldn’t move his hands.

Right. 

As he struggled with his restrains, the beeping got faster. He knew it was the heart rate monitor and the fact that it was making noise was a good thing. But it was pissing him off and he couldn’t think straight and it kept getting faster and faster. There was panic and frustration welling in his throat and he just needed it to be quiet for one fucking second so he could get his head on straight.

_Beep_

Babe glared venomously at the machine. Just like everything else in the room, it looked absolutely ancient and had wires sprouting out from all angles. A few of the wires were connected to the front of the beeping menace and disappeared into his gown. 

Babe smirked, ‘ _Bingo_.’  
.’

He started thrashing against his restraints, hoping he could dislodge an arm or unstick the heart rate monitor wires. He got his first full breath of air as the plastic cup over his mouth slipped down his face with his struggling.

Finally, he could feel the sticky patches peeling off his chest, pulling on his meager chest hairs. But there was no rest for Babe. Instead of a steady beeping, the machine let out a high-pitched whine as he “flat-lined”. Babe gave an aggressive growl before pulling at his restraints with renewed vigor, praying that he took the metal bar he was chained to off as well. He needed something to bludgeon the machine with-

Babe was shocked into stillness as the door slammed open and a loud voice dominated the room, “Jesus- Nurse! I need a nurse in here now!” 

The tall, imposing man who’d burst into the room had covered the distance to Babe’s bed in two quick strides before shoving him back on to the mattress. Before Babe could even think about reacting, cool metal was being pressed against his throat.  
“Son, I need you to calm down _right now_.” The man growled and shoved the gun harder against Babe’s neck.

Babe tried his best, but he had entered full-blown panic mode. The familiar feeling of a gun so close to a vital piece of his anatomy sent his mind reeling. He was back on the road, locking eyes with the boy with bloody lips, staring down a crazy officer, being hauled into a police car. Another man attacking Julian, throwing him out of a moving vehicle. 

The people attacking each other on the side of the road. 

His heart felt like it was stuttering in his chest. 

“You good, kid?” The doctor broke Babe from his memories. He took a faltering breath and cracked his eyes open. When he’d first burst into the room, the doctor looked like he was wearing weird blue and red tye-dyed scrubs. But up close Babe realized that it wasn’t a blue and red patterned matching set. It was just a shit ton of blood splattered across his scrubs, most of it old and dark, crusting into the uniform while some of it was bright and fresh. There were flecks of it up his arms and across his face, some even smattered across his glasses. Babe was vaguely reminded of the doctor’s costumes they had at the shitty stores that popped up during Halloween time and wondered what kind of nightmare he’d woken up in.

The doctor was looking at him expectantly.

Right. Babe forced himself to speak, wincing at his wobbling voice, “I’d be a lot better if I didn’t have a gun pointed at me.”

“Sorry. It’s a precaution.” The doctor sighed in relief and backed away from Babe, “Thank God.”

“You know Doc, I’ve never been hospitalized before, is the gun a normal procedure or am I just special?” Babe asked weakly, trying to weedle out just how far up shit creek he was.

“New development in protocol.” The doctor said, wasting no time in resetting the heart monitor, “Ain’t nothin’ special about you.”

Babe relished the quiet that descended on the room, “Is that why I’m strapped to the bed?” 

“Protocol.” The doctor said again, not looking up from where he was flipping through Babe’s charts, “Head injury, brief coma-”

“Brief coma!?” Babe squeaked, shooting up from his prone position on the bed.

“Relax, it was only three days-“ 

“Only?! _Only?!_ ” Babe was nearing hysterical. Three fucking days. He had no ID on him, his phone was dead in his house, there was no way they would have been able to contact his folks and let them know he was all right. He could practically feel his ma’s rolled up apron smacking him as she verbally ripped him a new asshole. He knew it’d be worse than that. Last time he pulled a stunt like this, she’d made him stay in the house for a whole week and would walk him to work like he was in kindergarten again and he’d only forgot to call on Sunday after he missed church.

“Jesus Christ, I’m fuckin’ dead.” He whispered to himself.

The doctor eyed him, “No, you’re damn lucky to be alive, lotta people ain’t makin' it through the night-“

The doctor was interrupted by the door slamming open and a nurse charging into the room with a gun in one hand and a syringe in the other. Was every person who burst into his room going to look like they’d walked straight out the medical horror section of a haunted house? 

“He’s clear, Spina,” The doctor went back to scribbling on Babe’s chart, “And I remember calling for a nurse, not an intern.” 

“Yeah, well I’m all you get right now.” The guy snapped, already moving to Babe’s side, replacing the wires and removing the cup from his face completely, “Rosie got bit, we ain’t sure if the patient’s infected or just hysterical.”

The doctor was on his way to the door before the intern even finished his sentence, already yelling into the hallway about how nobody follows the fucking protocol.

Babe craned his neck to look up at ‘Spina’, “So do you gotta hook me back up to that contraption or can I have some Goddamn peace and quiet?”

“Protocol. We’re trying to keep you alive.” The intern shot at him, his accent getting thicker as he struggled with the machine, “If your heart stops pumpin', how are we gonna know?”

Babe smiled. He knew that accent.

“So, what part of Philly you from?” 

A green line appeared on the screen and the steady beeping filled the air once more. Babe sighed in defeat as Spina wiped his hands together in triumph, “Center City.”

“Yeah?” Babe grinned up at him, “Front street. What the hell are you doin’ all the way out here with all this shit goin’ on?” 

“Shoulda known you were from Philly with that mouth.” He started messing around with the IV bag Babe was hooked up to, “And I couldn’t get an internship in the city. Been commuting out here since November.”

That’s exactly what Babe wanted to hear, “So, you know what’s goin’ on right? Everyone here is awful prepared for whatever the hell’s goin’ on.”

Spina let out a sharp laugh, “Only God knows. I’m just an intern, they don’t tell me shit.”

“Come on, Spina, buddy,” Babe knew he knew. He’d only been around the guy for minutes but he could already tell he had the worst poker face, “I know you know something.”

The intern worried his lip as he moved on to the actual IV in Babe’s arm, “I really can’t tell you anything now. Protocol and all.” 

Babe tried to level him with his most powerful glare.

“Jesus, I’m serious. Can’t waste time on you if you’re gonna end up infected. Gotta wait it out until we’re sure you ain’t.” 

“ _Infected?!_ Excuse you- wait, you mean I ain’t leavin now?” Babe was going to go crazy if he had to sit in the gross room and worry about whether his mom was going to mount his head or his ass over their fireplace.

“Nope.” Spina popped the P, “You got a mandatory observation period.”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?! I need to get home! My ma’s gonna fuckin’ murder me after 72 hours of no contact!” She’d definitely go with his ass. She’d never want to look at his sorry face again after this.

Spina said nothing as he moved on to the actual IV needle that Babe had nearly shaken loose. But he didn’t need to. Babe could see the panic written all over his face.

“Look, Spina- ouch! Jesus Christ!” He yelped as Spina jostled the IV around, poking it into something that felt important.

“Sorry, sorry!” He rushed out, looking completely relieved that his job was done, “Just an intern!” He laughed nervously, already heading for the door, “Now don’t go trying to yank that out! We’ve had too many people try to go all survival hero on us and spraying their blood everywhere!” 

“Spina! Hey, I’m still strapped in here!” Babe yelled at his retreating back.

“That’s kind of the point.” He picked up his gun from where he’d set it on the visitor’s chair and reached for the door.

“Wait!” Babe was pulling at the cuffs again, extremely frustrated, “You can’t just leave me in here! How the fuck am gonna take care of myself?”

“This is a hospital, not a prison. Someone’ll be in to feed you.”

“Yeah? Well, how am I supposed to go to the bathroom?” 

Spina didn’t even spare him a glance, “You ever heard of a diaper?”

“Are you serious!? Spina you absolute fuck! I swear to God-“ Babe tried screaming after him, but the door had clicked into place and it was nearly silent again except for the rapid beat of the heart rate monitor. He released a frustrated roar.

_Beep_

He really had to pee.

 

oOo

 

Just as promised, almost exactly twenty-four hours and three spoon-feed meals later, Babe’s hands were free. They’d brought in a nurse who flashed a light in his eyes, took a blood sample for “scientific purposes” and didn’t answer a single one of the questions Babe had motored at her. Another thing that fell under the “scientific purposes” category was a mandatory twelve-hour observation period after he’d been released from his bonds.

While Babe was desperate to get out of this backwards town and its inhabitants, he would take one victory at a time, no matter how small. He was technically free to roam around the room. Which meant he no longer had to endure the pain and embarrassment of the diaper. With half remembered knowledge of a shitty action movie and a silent ‘fuck you, Spina’, he gently tugged the IV out.

Blood dripped down his arm as he made his way over to the bathroom but there were more pressing matters at hand. He gleefully stripped himself of the disgusting garment. He took a moment to cross himself and thank God before he began his celebratory pee.

“Is that a mole on your ass?”

“Jesus!” Babe yelped and spun around, trying to simultaneously cover his ass and his dick with his drafty hospital gown. He was unsuccessful.

It was the guy from the road, Julian. He stood in the doorway with a shit-eating grin and two take out mugs.

“It’s a freckle.” Babe muttered indignantly.

Julian whistled, “You look good.” 

Babe patted his greasy hair and smiled weakly. Even though Julian was teasing him, Babe didn’t think he looked too hot himself. His eyebrows were low, furrowed over bruised bags. He distinctly remembered that Julian’s impressive brows shot towards his hairline and contributed to the whole puppy dog look he had going on. Even the curl of his smirk seemed off, more sardonic than gleeful. Babe shook his head. He’d only known this guy for hours. Combining that with the seriously messed up shit he seemed to remember, he figured there had to be something off.

“Get in the fuckin’ room! You’ve already made enough of a scene in the lobby, we don’t need any more attention!”

Babe knew that voice. He’d cursed it a million and one times every time he’d had to pee while he was strapped to the bed.

Fuckin’ Spina.

Said intern was busy shoving Julian into the room and looking out into the hallway, “The things I do-“ 

“ _The things I do?!_ Are you kidding me, you sorry sack of shit-“ Babe huffed out, starting toward Spina.

“Hey, whoa,” Julian, the damn traitor, held a hand out and stopped Babe from getting any closer to Spina, “Babe c’mon he let me in here. Knew exactly who I was talkin’ bout when I came in looking for you.” 

“More like when you came in yelling and screaming-“

“I was thought I was being very diplomatic-“ Julian’s face crumpled into petulance.

“And you,” Spina turned an accusatory finger on Babe, “What are you doing out of your bed? No one’s signed off on your complete recovery. Your IV should still be in-“ His eyes traveled down to Babe’s side, where the blood running down his arm had started a consistent drip to the floor, “Jesus Christ, I told you!”

Babe shrugged and shot him a toothy grin, “Had to pee.” 

Spina kneaded his brow, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“I didn’t think intern’s got paid at all.” Babe supplied helpfully.

Spina looked to the ceiling and whispered something that sounded like ‘give me strength’, before turning to Julian, “Keep him here while I get something for his arm.”

He stopped halfway out the door, “Oh and ‘Babe’?” He called out with heavy finger quotations, “Nice mole.”

“It’s a freckle!” Babe yelled after him. He self-consciously rubbed his right ass-cheek before turning back to the toilet, “Can’t a guy pee in peace around here?”

“No such thing as privacy in this town.” Julian said, holding out the mug as Babe finished up in the bathroom.

“No such thing as rational in this town either.” Babe eyed Julian as he took the mug, “To be honest, I’m a little surprised you’re still here. I woulda thought you’d have high tailed it out of here at first chance.”

Julian was silently staring at him with a concerned look.

“What? Oh, don’t tell me you stayed here for me! That’s cute and all, Jules but you know that self sacrificing romantic shit only gets you killed.” Babe said, trying to shake off the serious air that had suddenly invaded the room.

“Babe,” Julian regarded him with careful eyes, “They ain’t letting people leave. And with the way things are, I’m not sure I want to either.”

Babe blinked in surprise before sputtering out a laugh, “Julian, you serious? With all the shit we’ve seen here, the way they treat people? And you want to stay? And not letting people out? That should make you want to leave even more! Don’t tell me you drank the kool-aid.”  
“Babe-“ Julian tried to interrupt, but Babe steam rolled through.  
“Besides, I need to get back to Philly. My ma’s definitely worried sick and my boss probably fired me-“

“Babe!” Julian shouted, finally shutting him up, “Have they told you anything?”

Babe snorted, “I’ve been out for three days and under ‘observation for scientific purposes’ for two!” He emphasized with air quotes, “The only human interaction I’ve had was with a doctor, that asshole, and you. Of course they haven’t told me jack shit!”

“Jesus, you really don’t know.” Julian whispered, staring at him with wide eyes.

Babe hated how familiar the feeling of unease washing through his body was becoming. He could see that Spina and Julian were trying to beat all the way around the bush. Philadelphians just didn’t do that. It had to be something big. 

“Jules, you’re really starting to freak me out-“ 

“Could you guys at least try to keep it down in here?” Spina said as he slipped back into the room, struggling with an armful of bandages and little antiseptic packets. 

Julian was fumbling with a pack of cigarettes. Apparently Babe’s bad influence had already set in, “Can we do this by the window. I need a smoke.”

 

“Julian, you gotta tell me _something!_ I’m tired of being left in the dark about this shit. Everyone’s running around, covered in blood and waving goddamn guns in the air like its some sort of ‘Duck Dynasty’ meets ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ spinoff.” Babe exclaimed. If he was being honest with himself, he was absolutely terrified of what they were going to tell him. Between his blurry memories of what happened on the high way and the nervous glances the two were shooting at each other, it could be nothing good. But he wanted- no he _needed_ to know.

“Alright, alright,” Spina frowned, “We gotta be quiet though.”

Julian cracked the window open and they arranged the visitor’s chairs in a half circle around it. Babe held out his right arm for Spina as he roughly wiped it clean. 

It was completely silent.

“Great explanation guys, very thorough.” Babe said dryly.

“Don’t be an ass Babe,” Julian sniffed, “This is just… difficult to explain, ‘m not sure where to start. Do you uh, do you remember what happened on the road?”

“How could I forget that shit?” Babe motioned for the box of cigarettes, “The ‘virus’, that cop shooting people, the guy attacking us in the car. Is this place swarming with National News reporters and CDC inspectors yet?” Babe took a long drag, relishing in the nicotine.

“The CDC already knew. The town started seeing people get violent, what, a couple weeks ago?” Julian looked to Spina for confirmation, who nodded, “and they already knew. They said they had it all under control. Then they contacted the government who just said to quarantine. The Sheriff thinks they were trying to down play the severity of it to keep it under control. They left it up to the town or city council to decide what to do.”

“And what did they decide?”

“To shoot ‘em.” Spina said lowly, looking haunted.

“Jesus.” Babe whispered in disbelief. The thing was, he could believe it. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the man in the back of the car, bearing down on him with his teeth, “And you believe everything the Sheriff said?”

“I wasn’t sure. Even after what we saw, even after that guy in the back of the car. I just couldn’t believe it,” Julian shuddered, “until they had a demonstration.”

He reached for the pack again, “There was a live- no a- well it was moving. They found it when this kid came running down the street yelling about how there was Kraut-“

“Kraut?” Babe asked, sipping at his coffee.

“Yeah, it’s incredible. The kid watches a shit ton of World War Two shows and ‘Dead Snow’ once three years ago and it somehow sticks with him enough for him to see an infected and just start yelling ‘Kraut! There’s a god damn Kraut!’” Julian shook his head, “Now the whole fuckin’ town is callin’ em that.”

“It’s a whole lot better than ‘infected’.” Babe muttered around his cigarette, still a little offended at being referred to as such.

“Damn straight it is. Infected is too Hollywood, you now? And it makes it seem like they’re still human in there, that there’s a chance to save ‘em.”

“We’ve had too many people get bitten because they think their friends and family are still in there somewhere.” Spina sighed, “It just ain’t true. You get bit, only a matter of time before you’re not you anymore.”

The heavy silence that pervaded the room was broken by Julian, “But anyway, the demonstration. We get called out of the school gym- all the people from out of town are stayin’ there – to the football field of all places,” Julian took a long drag, “they got this big stage right in the middle of the grass, looked like they were about to announce the homecoming king and queen. But instead of an Ashley and Brad, we get this cage. There’s an officer and a skinny teenager holding a camera up there with this short, round lookin’ man. The short guy takes this megaphone and asks for everyone’s attention, says he’s got something to show us. The officer’s got one of those animal control leashes, you know the ones with the solid metal bar and the wire at the end, and sticks it in the cage. He kind of struggles with something in there before pulling this guy out on the end of the leash. At first it wasn’t too bad, we could barely see anything except for how red this guy’s shirt was. But this is a small town with big time football, so they’ve got those huge direct-from-camera screens and then we’re seein’ everything up close and personal. It’s skin was gray, waxy, like when you’re lookin’ in a casket. And it’s one of it’s eyes had this film over it, and the other was filled with blood. And then everyone notices real fast that his shirt used to be white. The Kraut’s neck had been slashed and we could see the tendons and the arteries-“ He took a sharp inhale and swallowed.

Babe tried to gulp around his own queasy feeling, “Julian, you don’t need to finish-“

His friend interrupted him with a hand and stubbed out his used up cigarette with the other, “They’re gonna show you the video Babe, I’m tryina warn you. I’ve seen shit here I’d never dreamed I’d see and I want you to be ready for it.”

Babe could only nod in silence.

“And then-then the officer hands the leash off to another officer and pulls out his gun and starts shooting the thing. Babe,” Julian locked eyes with him. They were serious and hollow and Babe could feel his heart pressing against his ribcage, “he musta emptied a clip into it. And it just stood there and took it, it’s body moved with the force of the bullets but it just stood there… there wasn’t even any blood, just some thick dark-,” Julian shuddered, “The thing is practically roaring. Sounds like a damn battle cry. Then the officer picked up a shovel and hit it’s head. It fell with the hit, yeah, but it didn’t stop moving. They finished it with a gunshot to the head. It was so quiet in that arena. There’d been chatter before but this, this was real silence. And then they said that this is what was out there. That this is what we’d face if we left town. They said that this was happening everywhere. Cities and towns across the globe were on lock down just like them. That this kid had found this one guy in a back yard during a daily sweep of the town. Probably been bitten and was too scared to go to the hospital so he just,” He drew a line across his throat, “or someone knew and did it for him but didn’t know if they didn’t get the head it didn’t matter whether they were dead or not.”

Julian picked up another cigarette and twirled it between his fingers, “They said yes, it’s slow, yes, it can’t see, yes, on it’s own it wasn’t too dangerous. But what happens when there’s more, a group? Or when you don’t have a gun or ammo? When your friends and family get infected and you just can’t bring yourself to smash their heads in. And then there’s even more wandering around and-“ Julian bit his lip and looked out the window with shiny eyes, “Babe, it was fucking terrifying.”

It was silent in the hospital room as Babe tried to process what Julian had told him. Deep down, he’d known the situation was serious with the way the officers had been filtering people in and when he’d woken up with a gun in his face, but he never could have imagined how bad it actually was. How big it had gotten. Shit like this just didn’t happen in real life.

“Then they told us they were rechecking everyone in town.” Julian said, breaking through the quiet, “Almost everyone was clear. But there was this family staying next to me and they had an empty cot where their daughter used to sleep. The mom sobbed all night and no one had the heart to tell her it was probably better that they caught it before she had to see her kid infected.”

Babe was struggling to find anything to say to that, “So all those people that cop shot?”

“All infected.” Julian confirmed.

“How’d they even know?” Babe questioned.

“They’d questioned ‘em before. That’s why there were two groups. The people they cuffed had direct contact with the infected.” 

“Direct?”

Julian looked him in the eye, “All bitten.”

Babe’s stomach twisted, “Jesus, this is ‘World War Z’.” 

“No shit. It’s like we woke up in George Romero’s dreams.”

“So that cop wasn’t a complete psycho.” Babe said, “Just really fuckin ruthless.”

“You know, I actually tried to talk to another officer about his conduct, tried to get you some justice,” Julian smiled tiredly at him, “But the officer told me he was gone.”

“Gone? Like, infected?” Babe asked, wrinkling his brow.

“No, like gone gone. They couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere. Not his gun, not his badge, not even his fuckin hat. Just his empty squad car with the head lights still on. The guy I was talking to was pretty convinced we’d be seein’ a kraut version of him wandering around soon enough.”

“Good riddance.” Babe grumbled, rubbing at his still tender nose.

“I think he had to be at least a little unbalanced to be able to look at any human, infected or not and just mow them down.” Julian said, “Probably a good thing he’s gone.”

Babe hummed in agreement, “How the hell were they so prepared for this is what I’m wondering.”

Spina, who’d been nearly silent the whole time Julian had been talking, finally piped up, “We uh, we had our first case about a month ago.” He bit his cheek, “I was on shift. It was about two or three in the morning and we’re all just sitting around, not much goes down in this town. We only ever really get the crashes off the highway a couple miles out. All of a sudden this ambulance pulls up. We’re prepping our usual routine for car crashes, but they wheel out this person strapped to a stretcher. At first we all think he’s havin’ a seizure. The EMTs were telling us to stay clear of the stretcher, that this guy was goin’ crazy. I’ve never seen EMTs look freaked out like that and they’ve seen some serious shit. So while we’re talking to the EMTs, trying to get a feel for what we’re dealing with,” Spina gulped, “The guy rips his arm right off.”

“From the restraints?” Babe asked, a little jealous.

“No, he uh, his arm kind of snapped and the bone was poking out and he lunged to the side and the muscle and skin connecting the arm just kind of peeled off.” Spina said, looking a little green.

Oh, definitely not jealous. Babe cringed and Julian subconsciously rubbed at his arm and passed Spina a fresh cigarette.

“He’d been strapped down because he bit an EMT on the way over. His wife had been standing right next the stretcher and as soon as he lunged he had her. Took a chunk right out of her stomach. With his mouth. We tried to do everything we could, but we lost her a few hours later. We couldn’t really figure out what was wrong with the husband either. Everyone was too scared to go near him, so finally this doctor says fuck it and goes in. We’re all too scared to do anything, but it looks like he’s got it all under control. He made sure he was as far from the head as he could be. The man starts going crazy. His hand is just,” Spina tried to demonstrate, twisting and clenching his hand sporadically, “and then he’s lunging again. The doc gets the needle in the skin but it has no effect on the guy. And then he lunged again and there’s this popping sound and some blood spray,” Spina shuddered, “I’ll never forget that sound. But suddenly he was free and he had the doctor by the neck before any of us could do anything. It got really fast after that. The doctor gurgled out something that sounded like close the door. At least that’s what we’re telling ourselves. A couple people wanted to go in and help him. I was about ready to fight anyone who wanted to open up that damn door. But then we hear screaming. This nurse who’d been filling out the report on the wife comes sprinting down the hall covered in blood. We can’t get anything useful out of her. She’s just shaking and sobbing and babbling about needing to move. At this point we notice another person coming down the hall. I thought the nurse had been about as blood soaked as they came, but this one, she was dripping. It was smeared on her face, running down her arms. Left a trail of it down the hall. I’d kind of grabbed the nurse to hold her still, but as soon as she saw the other woman she started screaming at me to let her go. She ended up punching me in the face and toke off down the hall.” 

Spina was staring off into the distance now and Babe could almost see the scenes playing out behind his eyes. 

“So my buddy goes up to this woman. Tryin’ to talk to her because she seems a lot more calm that the nurse, tryin’ to get her to tell him what happened. And she’s just kind of shuffling toward him, no matter where he turns. He’d always been kind of iffy with blood. Didn’t really want to touch her.” Spina laughed mirthlessly.

“Finally, he touches her arm. Now, she’d been walking funny before. Kind of leading with her head while the rest of her body followed. Like of looked like a puppet. But as soon as he touched her, it was like hitting an on switch. She’d gotten her hands on his scrubs and had him backed against the wall. It looked like she was going in for a hug. My buddy thought so too, and was patting her back and whispering to her. It was real impressive.” Spina pursed his lips, “And then he started screaming. I’ve never heard anyone scream like that. He tried to push her off but she wouldn’t budge. And when she finally pulled her head back, she took a couple of tendons and pieces of skin with her-“

“Spina-“

“a-and he just slid down the wall. I’m trainin’ to be a nurse and I never thought I’d see that much blood-“

Babe put his hand on Spina’s shoulder. They’d heard more than enough and it was apparent by the look in his eye that reliving it was killing him. The intern shook his head and came back to them, “The specifics don’t matter.” He was still holding his unsmoked, burned down cigarette, “We lost about thirty people because of that night.”

“Jesus, all from that one guy?” Babe asked, removing the cigarette from Spina’s hand and stubbing it on the windowsill.

Spina nodded, “Bit a good ten people. The nurse that punched me was bit, she’d tried to help another person that the woman got to. Then she ran all the way home, laid low for about three days before she turned. Got to her boyfriend and their neighbors before someone damn near chopped her head off. Had a couple of cases like that. People started leaving. I’ve never seen that many cars on the roads out of this town.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Babe asked.

“Didn’t have anywhere to go. Parents took off for the yearly family reunion. I decided to stay behind for this fuckin internship. I was too late to join them and too scared to be alone, you know? The people here knew what was going on. I could relate. If I told anyone back in Philly, I’d either be sent to an asylum or swept up by the shady government cover up team they’ve deployed.”

Babe frowned into his coffee, “That’s the second time you guys have talked about a cover up.”

“Yeah,” Julian looked uncomfortable, “A lot of the bigger cities have been keeping it on the down low. They didn’t want to cause mass panic. Probably thought it’d be easier to try and take care of it with out notifying the public.”

Babe frowned, “They didn’t try to warn anyone?”

“Well, the radio’s been playin’ nothing but the Emergency Broad Cast System for days now,” Julian laughed mirthlessly, “Lotta good that’s gonna do. It just says to stay inside and away from the infected. But if people don’t know what the infected do, shits gonna go south really fast.”

Babe felt his throat clench, “You mean, people in the cities _don’t know?_ They’re just hiding in their houses like sitting ducks?!”

Julian’s uncomfortable silence told Babe everything he needed to know.

“Oh my god,” Babe’s stomach was rolling and hysteria was welling in his throat, “I need- god I need to get back- my family!” Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, headed for the door. 

Julian’s firm grip on his arm stopped him, “Babe, I told you we can’t leave-“

“Why?” Babe hissed through clenched teeth, “I don’t know what kind of sick shit they teach you two in Center City but family comes first.”

“Babe!” Suddenly Julian was very loud and very tall, “We can’t! They’re fuckin shooting people who are trying to leave! They ain’t even infected.”

“W-what?” Babe could feel the color drip from his face. 

Julian instantly looked exhausted. He slumped back into his chair and ran his hands through his hair wearily, “I wanted to leave. Fuck, who didn’t? Seemed like everyone had family in a big city or small corner of the mountains. This one guy, a big fellow with a family, who’d talked to some of the people who looked like they were in charge gathered us around and said they weren’t gonna let people leave.” Julian laughed weakly, “And you know how American’s are when you take away our right to make decisions. So we all decided to rally together because how the hell could they stop all of us?” He tapped the ash off his cigarette and took a long drag, “Fuckin’ stupid, every last one of us. We all got together to rush the road out of town. I think the cops hesitated for maybe a second before they started firing into the crowd. And then we were scattering in every direction. So much for our American tenacity.” He exhaled.

Babe breathed out harshly from his nose, trying to get any kind of bearing on the situation. Count to five, something deep in his mind instructed. Calmness is key. It sounded suspisciously like his father. He’d always told Babe to breathe, collect the calmness in his chest until there wasn’t room for the anger and panic.

Spina rested a hand on his arm. He lost it.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me, you wanted to be here!” Babe nearly shouted.

“ _Wanted_ to be here?!” Even though Babe had a few good inches on the man, Spina was in his face like a true Philly boy. He yanked aside his sleeve, revealing a blood stained bandage, “I got shot trying to escape. Julian saved my sorry ass and helped me patch it up. They took everyone who they knew tried to escape, lined em up and let loose.”

Babe was speechless as Spina continued, “I never thought this would be an all consuming thing. I thought it was local and that the CDC and the government would come sweeping in with a cure. That my parents would stop by on their way back and pick me up and I could head home and sleep in my bed and pretend this never happened. But instead of an in person delivery of a cure, we get a garbled radio transmission from _fucking Colorado_ telling us that the President is missing, they’ve completely lost contact with the West Coast, and that there is no hope for the infected. All you can do is shoot them in the head and hope you’ve hit something important.” The intern stared up at him with angry eyes, “I wanted to leave as soon as they confiscated our records of the infected, rounded them and anyone they happened to be with up and herded them here for ‘treatment’,” Spina angrily pointed at his gun, “So fuck you. I’m stuck here, same as you.”

Spina sat down heavily in his chair and wiped at his eyes, “Fuckin’ hell.” His voice cracked.

Julian rubbed circles on Spina’s back and looked up at Babe, “The next day, they had that demonstration with the Kraut. And we all really understood what was going on out there.”

“Jesus.” Babe muttered to himself, sliding back into the chair. By all accounts he was lucky. He’d managed to get out of Philly, a city packed to the brim with people, before the lock down had started and gone to a town that had been prepared for a massive outbreak for weeks. But all he could manage to feel was guilty. His family was stuck there, along with another five million people, any of who could be infected. And they had no idea of what was going on.

He struggled with a cigarette before handing the pack to Spina in silent apology. They all smoked in silence, resolutely staring out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned above, there are a couple of reasons why this has taken so long. It's my sport season this quarter, which means that time I would be doing homework is taken up by sports, which means that my free time that I'd spend writing has become my homework time! Which is a bummer but alas.
> 
> Another is that this fic has sort of taken on a life of its own in my mind. It started out as something that was only supposed to be 6-7 chapters, but my subconscious started presenting me with all these ideas and suddenly there is no end in sight. It was originally going to be a light hearted zombie bashing fic, I swear. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys liked it! Please tell me if there are mistakes or anything I could be doing better!.  
> I can't really say there's going to be a posting schedule but the next chapter should be up soonish maybe
> 
> Also, I just want to thank everyone who has commented and left kudos and bookmarked. It really means a lot to me and it's super encouraging!
> 
> I have a  tumblr  if you want to drop by and say hi!


	3. So You Think You Can Tell Heaven From Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter and I… we fought. A lot. It wanted to do things one way, I wanted to do things another way. Alas. We finally sat and worked some shit out and ended up with a hybrid between what we wanted. I’m still not super happy with it, but I don’t think there’s anything that can be done to persuade it into anything else.
> 
> This is the second part of the town and finally a little action? Kind of? And maybe a semi-cliff hanger? Idk. Anyway sorry for the wait and I hope you like it!
> 
> The name of the chapter is from the song Wish You Were Here by Pearl Jam. No disrespect to the real men of Easy Company. This is based entirely on the actor's portrayals and I own nothing.

Babe was pretty sure they would have sat at the window forever if it wasn’t for the grumpy nurse who stepped into their room. She pinned Spina with a nasty look that sent him and Julian scrambling for the door. Her withering stare fixated on Babe next when she noticed the blood that had begun to spill down his arm again without Spina’s attention.

After she wrapped his arm up, (a little too rough, in Babe’s opinion) she proceeded with the generic hospital check up, scribbling his height, weight, and blood pressure on a clip board. She tossed him his clothes and muttered out “Three minutes” before leaving the room. He wasted no time in tearing off his gown and heading to the bathroom to scrub as much of the hospital grime off as he could. 

His clothes had been washed but the evidence of the road remained in the rusty stains that ran down the front of his shirt. He only got a scant few seconds to rub his hands through his greasy hair and try to mold it into something decent before the nurse busted back into the room and shoved him out the door.

Babe tried not to gawk as she pulled him through the halls. The whole place gave off the air of a hastily slapped together imitation of a horror movie hospital, complete with sections of ceiling missing, where wires and pipes hung down dangerously, and blood smeared across the walls. They passed a reception desk where Spina had his hands deep in a cardboard box, digging through supplies. He abandoned it when he locked eyes with Babe and shuffled up to intercept them. The nurse took one look at Spina, rolled her eyes, and stepped away before he got the chance to began laying out the list the excuses that were formulating in his eyes.

He smiled after her and fell into step with Babe, “Everyone here is real used to me fuckin’ stuff up. It’s like a free pass.” He lead on, turning them down a wide, busy hallway littered with IVs, wheelchairs, and people, “Usually, we release people in groups and a policeman comes by, rounds ‘em up and gives ‘em a tour of the town before droppin’ them off at the gym…” 

“But?” Babe questioned, dodging a nurse carrying an impressive stack of boxes.

“But,” Spina repeated, “Julian and I decided that you deserved the unedited tour.” He nodded to where Julian had propped himself up against an abandoned filing cabinet, just behind a group of wide-eyed discharges. 

Babe raised a hand to wave but Spina blocked him, “Don’t look at him. Just keep walking. Like we said, everyone’s jumpy and some of the police are kind of trigger-happy. Looking suspicious can be a death sentence.”

Babe could see that. The hallway was bustling with people from all walks of life, but it wasn’t hard to pick out the police by the large berths everyone gave them. Babe chalked it up to the way they held their guns at the ready, like anyone could turn at any second. He held his breath as they came up on one wielding a shotgun, who already had an eye on them. The glittering eyes of the policeman from the road flashed in Babe’s mind and he shuttered against the image as Spina steered them away from the man and down random hallways. The bustle died down the further they got from the main hallway and Babe’s lungs began to loosen up. A set of sloppy footsteps followed them down the hall and caught up with them as they rounded a corner. Julian appeared on Babe’s other side as they entered another reception area. Just like the last one, the entrance that had boxes stacked precariously along the walls and was lined with windows that made Babe’s light sensitive eyes water.

The only thing missing were the people. Where the other entrance had been packed to the brim, this one was practically deserted, save the nurse at the front desk and a man leaning his arm against the blinding window and looking outside. The man’s hulking frame pulled at something lurking on the edges of Babe’s half remembered descent into this hellscape. Even with out the shiny star and freshly pressed uniform, the man exuded competence and authority. Babe’s semi-functioning survival instincts kicked in, calling out in warning. He subtly tugged on Spina’s scrubs, trying to indicate that it was time to _turn the fuck around right now_ but Spina batted his arm away.

“Afternoon, Sherriff Heyliger.” Spina greeted, his voice pitching as he tried and failed to be casual, “You lookin’ for somethin’?”

The dominating aura the Sherriff naturally put off was decimated as he turned to look at them. The bags under his eyes and the slumped lines of his shoulders practically screamed defeat. He recognized the effects of exhaustion from Julian’s furrowed brows and Spina’s hunched form and wondered when he’d be sporting the same worn down look.

“Just Heyliger now, Ralph.” He said, rubbing a hand across his stubble.

“Ah, c’mon, just because you’re not on duty doesn’t mean I don’t need to call you Sherriff.” Babe rolled his eyes at Spina’s schmoozing.

“You can’t call me that because I ain’t the Sherriff anymore.” He muttered, looking away.

“Oh, so they finally kicked the mayor out and made you leader? Bout fuckin’ time-“

“No,” He sighed, “It’s more like the Mayor dissolved the police force last night. Decided we wouldn’t get anything done with all these different sections trying to vote on what to do. We’re more like a Guard now than anything.”

Spina’s eyes narrowed and Babe thought he was going to start yelling again but he just deflated with a sigh, “Man, without you in there keeping him in check, shit’s going to go South real fast. He’s going to be declaring himself Supreme Leader before the week is out.”

“Tyranny naturally arises out of democracy.” Julian recited, nodding along.

Babe’s neck cracked as he swung his head to scrutinize Julian, “Where’d you pull that one from, Socrates?” He tried to bite back the snarky comment but he couldn’t help himself.

“Alright!” Spina interrupted before they could really get into it, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders and squeezing in warning before turning back to the not Sherriff, “Sorry about these two, they-“

“-Bicker like an old married couple. I’m familiar with them.” Heyliger said, sending them a knowing look. Out of the corner of his eye Babe could see Julian trying to shift himself so he was slightly behind Spina. He barely managed to suppress an eye roll. Like Spina was a good barrier for blocking out authority.

“Kids’ right though. Shit’s not looking too good.” Heyliger sucked a heavy breath in, “There uh, there was another outbreak last night. It was small, only three people got bit, but it happened because we couldn’t decide what to do with the part of town backed by the forest. After that, the mayor thought that it’d be more effective if there was only one person making the decisions. And he elected himself.” He tugged at his flannel, like he couldn’t quite believe he wasn’t in uniform anymore, “Now I’m doin’ grunt work, just like the rest of my buddies.”

Babe didn’t like where this was going. This fucked up version of reality read like a cliché piece of post-apocalyptic literature.

Spina swore, “How did any of the police stand for that? I know a lot of the force don’t agree with his policies.”

“’s what I thought too. Guess it takes the apocalypse to see where people’s loyalties really lie.” He stopped fiddling with his shirt, “At least we’re alive. We can be thankful for that much. We could be-” He cut himself off as something like realization crashed over his face, “You’re going to show him the parking lot.” It wasn’t a question.

Julian ducked his head at the accusatory tone, trying to shrink back into his shoulders and Spina flinched but held his ground. 

“He already knows what they’re doing. He deserves to see it.” Spina argued, his Philadelphian attitude making an appearance again. He glared up at Heyliger in defiance and the ex-Sheriff looked down at him. Babe felt a little ill. He knew what they were talking about the shootings. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see any sort of physical evidence. But before he could protest, Heyliger’s stare had flickered to him and was heavy and hesitant at the same time. 

Finally he sighed, “Be careful. No more than five minutes and don’t go far.”

Babe hesitated at the door. The entire time he had spent cooped up in the hospital he’d been desperate to leave, to get out. Maybe run as far away from this place as he could. But now that he knew, now that he was about to step into the outside world, there would be no going back once he was out there. He almost didn’t want to. He could easily contain the madness into this hospital. He knew it was happening. He just wasn’t ready to see it.

Spina came up behind him, “Pull your shirt up over your nose and hold it there until we come back inside.”

For once, Babe did as he was told.

Heyliger gave him a tight smile and pushed the door open. Babe stepped out and instantly had to squint his eyes against the light. The bright blue sky and a smattering of fluffy clouds characteristic of late April in the East Coast greeted him. The sun caressed his skin and he felt warm in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He was a little embarrassed to say he’d been expecting it to be dark and gray, maybe even cold. That the weather would some how change to accommodate the grisly events unfolding in the human world. He turned to Julian and Spina and waited for them to say “Gotcha!” but they were both staring straight ahead with a solemn slant to their brows.

And then the smell hit. It snuck in amongst the iron and generic hospital detergent, so sudden that Babe didn’t even realize it until he was swallowing a gag. There was nothing he could compare it to, nothing he could pull from memory that smelled remotely like this. It was just rot. Babe leveled his gaze across the parking lot, trying to find the source. There were at least a dozen tarps littering the asphalt sprawling in front of them, covering mounds of stuff, maybe supplies. Babe was confused at what he was looking at.

He glanced to Spina who gestured for him to go forward. He stepped out from under the veranda and onto the asphalt and he was really and truly blinded for a moment. Because he couldn’t be seeing what he thought he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes before looking down again. It was a tiny hand. A tiny hand connected to a small arm. A small arm, chubby and smooth with youth. And it was dirty and bloody and completely still. 

Oh.

Babe stopped and looked at all the tarps. Shoes and hands and hair poked out from every single one.

Oh.

Not stuff. Not supplies.

Oh.

People. Not living. Not breathing. 

_Oh._

He dropped the hand that was holding his shirt up. He hardly registered the smell getting worse as a sense of nausea took over him. 

“W-were they all infected?” He called over his shoulder.

“Maybe half.” Spina replied, “Most of them were people they’d rounded up who had ‘contact’ with infected. Some were trying to escape. Some they just wanted gone.”

Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Why,” Babe gulped, “why did I need to see this?”

Julian looked uncomfortable as he folded his arms in on himself, “We don’t want you to be stupid like us. When we say they’re shooting anyone and everyone, we mean _anyone and everyone_.”

 

oOo

Julian only seemed to function in one of two modes: sneaky street rat or bratty, clumsy kid brother. Babe would have been amazed at the way he maneuvered them around the town with ease and confidence if he hadn’t been descending into shock. The dystopian crack he’d made on the road was truer than he could have ever imagined. Julian showed him where they’d tried to escape, pointing out that none of the bodies had been moved. ‘To discourage future attempts to escape, I think” he answered, when Babe had choked out a “why?”

They walked past the section of town that had been attacked last night and watched for a little while as men and women pulled up cars to form a sort of barrier. He even nodded to the people with guns situated on rooftops as they strolled past house after house with red X’s sprayed across their doors, where attacks had happened.

After showing Babe the supply station, Julian managed to sneak in with the group Babe was supposed to be walking with, strike up a conversation with a man, and then duck out when Babe and him got into a conversation marred with awkward silences and furtive glances.

That was how Babe ended up in the auditorium with all the other hospital releases, staring up at larger than life undead eyes on a screen. And Julian was right. About everything. It was almost like watching one of those action movies that definitely should have been R but they managed to scrap by with PG-13 by not adding any blood but keeping all the violence. Except it got NC-17 really fast when the officer smashed the Kraut’s head in with a rusty old shovel. A few sharp inhales of breath punctured the silence, but Babe figured at this point the shock value came from the brains spilled across the stage more than from the policeman’s actions.

And then. Then a picture of a little girl overtook the screen, probably around six or seven, in a nightgown decorated with care bears and blood splatters. There was a large oval of teeth indents on her upper arm, but otherwise she appeared to be fine. A voice over let them know that she was the first person they’d had who’d been bitten and hadn’t died and hadn’t turned. She was put in a hospital room with restraints and observed. They wanted to see if you had to die to turn or if it happened regardless. 

What followed was a series of pictures taken over a period of forty-four hours. At first, the changes were minute. Her skin lost it’s healthy glow, taking on an unusual pallor. The flesh surrounding the wound darkened with the progression of infection. By the forty-two hour mark, it was apparent that she was turning. Her eyes were the swollen centerpieces to a network of strained and unnaturally dark veins that spiraled outward across her face and down her neck, a feature characteristic of Krauts. She’d been strapped down at this point, but it was clear that she was still in there. The emotion on her face was painfully human.

Then the screen switched to a video of her struggling against the restrains and screaming for her dad. There was a responding yell from off scream and Babe’s heart stuttered at the anguish spilling from the speakers. No father should have to witness that. The feed cut off shortly after that. The voice from before sullenly resumed. As far as they knew, if you were bit, it was over for you. No one had ever not turned. 

It wrapped up like this: if you or someone you knew got bit, you were to report directly to the hospital, where you would be put down as humanely as possible. If you were found hiding a bite mark or harboring an infected, you would be executed on the spot. 

Babe figured Julian hadn’t seen this video. Liked to think that he would have warned Babe a little more about this one. 

They were herded to the gym after that. It wasn’t hard to do. They were practically zombies themselves after that film, consumed in thought and bumping into each other. As soon as they were checked in, Babe sought Julian out. He’d already cleared a space for him and all Babe needed was a cot. Just as Babe started toward the supply area, a worker appeared next to them and shoved the item into his hands. As he turned to set it up, he met the puffy eyes of a woman across from him. Julian’s words rang in his head about the family who’d lost their child. Her eyes flicked to the cot for just a moment before she looked away, biting at her lip

All Babe could think about was the little chubby arm.

oOo

Time got weird after that, moving painfully slow yet still way too fast for Babe to get any kind of grip on his situation. He spent the whole night studying the spitballs stuck to the ceiling and half the morning milling around the gymnasium with Julian in a daze. The inaction was killing him. His skin prickled with heat and his stomach churned in a way he hadn’t felt since his last bar fight that had been broken up by the police. He needed to be up and running and fighting to get to his family but instead here he was, locked in an overcrowded gym with a bunch of anxious people.

The men came in at noon. It was easy to tell that they were what remained of the police force with the authoritative way they marched in and assumed positions around the perimeter. After the gym was sufficiently quiet, the short, red-faced man from the video took up residence at the front of the gym and gave them a very brief speech. He started off by introducing himself as ‘Mayor Strayer’. Babe instantly hated him. He moved on to announcing that they’d officially moved everyone out of the hospital and began clapping like it was a great achievement. He was met with silence.

After that awkwardly puttered out, he cleared his throat and told them the men in the Force were going to take them to classrooms for ‘individual examinations’. There was a prickling ice that washed through Babe’s veins at that. Julian’s hands curled up and shook as his face turned pink with rage. A shocked murmur that rose above the crowd and people started to protest but the noise was quickly cut off as the Force spread out and began rounding people up.

It went row by row. A couple of the police would move down each line and grab five or six people at a time and guide them out of the gym. It seemed like hours before the men got to Babe’s row. When they finally did, his panic had manifested itself in violent tremors. All he could do was think of the tarps lining the hospital parking lot and his mom’s face.

They escorted him, Julian, and a few others out through the back exit. The group stopped at the beginning of a hallway and waited. A girl stumbled out of a room, gripping a blue card and the tension in Babe lessened a little bit. She was alive. Someone left the examination alive. Maybe Babe could live too. A stocky woman pushed Julian forward and Babe barely had a few moments to catch Julian’s terrified glance before he was being shoved into a room.

Babe didn’t have too long to dwell on anything because a door farther down the hall opened up and let out another person, card in hand. And then there was a hand on his back, steering him forward. 

Oh Jesus.

Even though he was practically having a heart attack, Babe craned his neck as they passed Julian’s room, trying to get a glimpse of something, anything. All he got was a brief view of the cowlick that resided on the back of Julian’s head before he was past the room. 

And suddenly they were in front of the door. Babe’s subconscious had seen fit to unleash a barrage of various situations onto his active process. Maybe there was a firing squad, just waiting for him to open the door, or a Kraut that he’d have to face off against to prove his worth. The woman who’d escorted him down the hall yanked the door open and pushed him in. He cinched his eyes shut and flinched as the door clicked behind him. His eyes cracked open when he wasn’t attacked instantly and was met with an elderly woman that looked like she would buckle like a house of cards if a strong breeze came through. No firing squad. No horde of infected. The tension practically melted out of his body.

She smiled and gestured to the open seat in front of her desk.

oOo

Babe left the room fifteen minutes later with a yellow and black card, a pounding heart, and an address. The woman behind the desk had asked him a myriad of questions, starting off with academics and quickly moving on to what he did as a job ‘before all this’ when he explicitly said his grades had been all right in high school but that he’d never been interested in college. It only took about three questions after that for her to hand him a card and explain that he’d be essential in helping out the town with manual labor and that his skills would be vital. There would be a meeting at the stadium later to discuss the specifics.

And that was that.

He’d shifted into autopilot mode by the time his feet hit the asphalt. It was too much. He was torn between relief at not being executed and being absolutely blown away that he was assigned a job and given a housing assignment. Like he was supposed to just carry on as normal now that he had an in town duty and a place to stay. Like it was a good thing. Like he wasn’t trapped in this place while the world went to shit. While he internally exploded, his body wandered aimlessly down a few streets before a woman took pity on him and walked him to the address.

And suddenly he was standing in front of a yellow two-story house. He watched his hand raise and knock on the door of its own volition. He saw the door crack slightly and big innocent eyes peering up at him. Babe’s mind pulled up his sister’s big doe eyes for comparison. But then the kid was yelling and suddenly there was a whole family fitting through the door. Babe barely had any time to look at any of them before the kid started firing off questions without pausing for Babe to answer. He must have looked overwhelmed because the woman who had to have been ‘mom’ put her hand on the kid’s shoulder and got him to quiet down before pulling Babe in.

Babe could tell that his silence made them nervous by the way the mother started offering him things. Food? Maybe a shower? If the officials were right, the water systems would be shutting down soon and this could be his last chance to take a private shower. 

Babe hazily recalled Julian’s comment about his appearance and the feel of his greasy hair and let himself be lead upstairs.

oOo

It wasn’t until he was sitting on a bed, a real honest to God bed with pillows and blankets, that he finally came back to himself. He knew what was happening was real. He’d watched the videos, he’d seen the bodies of people who’d tried to leave, hell he’d even pulled a Kraut off of Julian. But sitting on a bed in a make shift bedroom, truly alone for the first time in days, had suddenly sent him reeling. He couldn’t _leave_. His friends and family were locked up in Philadelphia, which sounded more and more like a death trap every day. And here he was, sitting on a plush bed with freshly washed hair and squeaky-clean skin. He knew he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He could try to leave, sure. But he’d be shot before he even made it out of the town. And what good would that do? 

He was getting ready to rip his hair out in frustration when there was a quiet knock on the door. It was the only warning he had before it was pushed open. The daughter, who must have been around Babe’s age, peeked inside before offering him a weary smile and holding up a steaming bowl of soup and a beer. She looked otherworldly.

‘Angel.’ His mind supplied him with.

She must have got her habit of nervous talking from her mother because the second she stepped into the room, it filled with chatter. She told him her mom said he must have been starving and made her bring up food even though it was obvious he didn’t want to be disturbed. She went on about how unfair the town was to not let people leave and she felt bad that he was stuck here. Babe watched in amazement as she got kind of pink after that and muttered out an apology before turning to leave. He almost released a horrified groan as the soup and beer was removed from his line of sight but his stomach beat him too it by announcing it’s presence with a loud gurgle.

She froze in the doorway and sent him a shy smile. And suddenly they were both giggling, which was weird and taboo and people were eating each other but it felt good to laugh. It was so _normal_ and it was nice and Babe would probably feel so guilty later about laughing with some girl in a safe warm place with soup in one hand and a beer in the other. She passed over the food and hesitated for only a moment before stooping to the floor and producing a bottle of whiskey from under the bed. 

And then they were talking. About themselves. About normal things. Everything except the obvious. 

When she got up to leave sometime past midnight, Babe watched her go with a warm glow settled in his stomach. Whether it was from the alcohol or from her, he couldn’t tell. She looked over her shoulder and, with a sheepish giggle, asked Babe what his name was. He clumsily rose to his feet and preformed an awkward bow, introducing himself as “Edward, but you can call me Babe,” finishing it off with an intoxicated wink.

More giggling and a curtsy before she responded with, “Miss Hess, but you can call me Doris.”

oOo

The militia came to Babe’s attention a week later when there was a town meeting. It was open for pretty much every able-bodied citizen who could contribute. They said that right now it was voluntary, but if they didn’t get enough people, there would be a draft. Babe started moving toward the sign up area before they finished the announcement. This was a win win. It could be his ticket out. Shit was bound to go down out on patrols, and when it did, Babe could escape. Even with the constant work that needed to be done around town, Babe was desperate for something more. Even with the terror of the unknown, his body screamed for action and at this point, he didn’t care if it was guarding the shitty town. 

It was perfect. 

oOo

Babe learned very quickly that there was a ghost in the Hess household. His face peered out from every photograph and his accomplishments sparkled in every trophy in the room Babe was staying in, but he was never mentioned by name, only reflected in sad eyes and worried lips.

It was Doris who broke the silence two weeks into his stay. Derrick, she choked out after she saw Babe wearing a tan army jacket that he’d scavenged from the closet in search of clothes that weren’t blood stained and torn to hell. Just a few years older, already out in the world. Came back for her spring break and bitten trying to protect her at the neighborhood bar. Gone before the sun even touched the sky.

She sniffed into his shoulder and looked up at him with big green eyes and he was terrified for a moment that she was going to say he reminded her of him. That she was going to call him her brother. Babe had a sister. He knew what brothers were supposed to do. And sure, he wanted to protect her, he wanted to scare away any guy that came looking for her, and he wanted to make her happy.

But he also wanted to ghost his lips over hers and feel the flutter of breath just before they met. Wanted to spread his hands around the flair of her hips and pull her impossibly closer. Wanted to pay extra attention to the junction between her jaw and her neck and he wanted to hear her say his name.

But then her lips were on his and it was a little messy and desperate, but definitely not brotherly.

oOo

He finally found Julian when the militia had their first training nearly a week later. They practically ran each other over as they approached their third lap around the town. 

Babe thought the exertion and exhaustion was a beautiful thing and they loitered outside of the football field after the run finished, basking in it. Julian took the time to bitch about getting stuck with a young couple, who apparently fucked like the world was ending. 

“I mean it kinda is but still!” Julian whined, sitting on a bench, “I regret the day they run out of condoms because if it ain’t sex, its gonna be crying babies and I won’t get any rest during this fuckin’ apocalypse.” He put his head in his hands and sighed.

Babe clapped Julian on the back, “Ah, it ain’t that bad.”

Julian glared at him through his hands, “The fuck are you to say it ain’t that bad? You’re probably stayin’ with some cute old grandma who feeds you cookies and pinches your cheeks.”

“Nah nothing like that-“ Babe smirked.

“Babe!”

Babe caught sunlight glinting off golden hair and felt his heartbeat speed up. He wasn’t the only one who saw her.

“Jesus Christ. Are you kiddin’ me?” 

“What-“ Babe could hardly keep the corny smile off his face.

“Is everyone having end of the world sex except for me?!” Julian bemoaned his fate, looking to the sky.

Before Babe could even begin to respond, Doris sidled up to him and pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek. Julian just raised his eyebrows at Babe over the top of her head. He stuck his tongue out at Julian and dipped Doris back into a dramatic kiss. He smirked against her mouth at Julian’s squawks of protest and finished up with a sloppy kiss to her cheek. 

“What was that for?” She had a silly grin plastered all over her face.

“Julian says _everyone_ is having end of the world sex.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Oh. Was that an invitation then?” She was still smiling but there a definite flush had started to crawl up her neck.

“Only if you want it to be.” He meant to joke. He really did. But it came out hushed and serious. 

As she tugged Babe back toward their house, he tried very hard to shut out the niggling voice in the back of his head that told him Doris was just a way to fill the hole that had opened up in his chest. The hole that got bigger and bigger with every passing day, with every thought of his family, with every moment that he was unoccupied. The voice that questioned if his affection for Doris stemmed from their forced proximity and the bleakness of the town around them. But the circumstance didn’t matter. She was saving his life and he knew it. 

Her entire family was the anchor that kept him from floating away into self-loathing. They kept him in the present and treated him like one of their own. He’d felt sick with guilt when he realized he thought of them as family. But it faded with time. Just like his anxiousness to get out of the town. He heard story after story from people who’d come to the town for sanctuary about how bad it was. Almost every raid sent out came back with people missing and haunted eyes. He was scared to go, scared to know what was out there.

He almost didn’t want to leave and he hated himself for it.

oOo

Babe spent mornings training with the militia, afternoons working around the town, and nights with Doris’ family. He’d constructed a mental block around the outside world. All that mattered was the routine. Eventually, they found Spina after camping out at the hospital and catching him as he stumbled out after a shift. They consistently met up week after week, discussing plans to escape and things that Spina overheard at the hospital. As time went on, the plans turned from detailed, serious ideas into a way to pass the time. They used to talk about their families, where they’d escaped to, how they’d definitely survived. That was before they started getting refugees, sometimes families with missing pieces, sometimes lone survivors who’d had to leave people behind. Now they just talked about when a raid managed to come back with 12-packs of coke and cigarettes. 

And then they ‘graduated’ from the training unit and became an official part of the town security. They thought things would kind of pick up again. They resumed talking about leaving now that they were eligible to go on patrols and raids. But the plans were only good in theory. It was obvious that they didn’t want Julian, a mechanic with useful skills, out roaming around where he could get bit. And Babe, well Babe was really only qualified to guard the perimeter and go out in large groups. How could they escape when they couldn’t even get clearance to go on patrols?

This meant that Babe’s time spent in the guard was uninteresting at best. Babe from three months ago would have laughed in someone’s face if they told him he’d be bored during the apocalypse and yet, here he was, on sentry duty almost everyday. A lot of the sentries killed one or two krauts who wandering close to town, but not him. Not that he was complaining. He’d developed a sort of phobia of the forest after seeing all the torn up people that came back from it. The most exciting thing that happened came in late August. They’d been finding bodies littered through out the forest that surrounded part of the town. Which, at first, seemed like it would be pretty typical with a walking disease that was literally tearing people’s throats out. But they were dead dead. Put down humanely with a gun shot to the head. Those were the one’s who’d been bitten but hadn’t turned yet. 

Any Kraut remains they came across had been systematically slaughtered in a variation of colorful ways. On one of the only patrol’s he’d been on, Babe had come across one nailed to the ground with a jagged tree branch sticking out from its forehead, brains and skull fragments littering the ground around it. He’d had to kick leaves over his partner’s vomit before calling out to the rest of his patrol. 

Eventually, the Mayor decided that ‘the problem’ needed to be dealt with. He thought there was some clan of forest people that would eventually try to over run the town. Babe didn’t see what the issue was. There was some force of nature out there killing Krauts that could wander into the town from the forest, and it was good at it. Not to mention that Babe was fucking terrified of the forest and anything that inhabited it, regardless if it was a Kraut killer or not. He didn’t want to go out there if he didn’t have to. A lot of the people shared his view. Even the Heyliger, who’d been doing his best to blend into the background, was up and arguing. But in the end, the Mayor, who’d progressively gotten pinker during the meeting, pulled the authority card and called in his force and that was that. They sent a four-man squad out at dawn comprising of a man who used to be a master sergeant and three college grads to scout it out. 

oOo 

Babe was sitting on top of an over turned car doing sentry duty when they came sprinting back into the town four hours later. Well, one of them did. The other two hobbled in, one blood stained, dirt smeared, and hunched over and the other dragging him. 

“Is he bit?” Babe called out, sliding down the side of his perch.

“No- fuck! You got a weapon kid?” The sprinter was all loud words and adrenaline.

“Yeah, but-“ Babe started, holding up his bat.

“Good, okay, you’re good. I’m gonna go get help. With all the fuckin’ noise those two made, you’re gonna need that baseball bat.” The sprinter shouted out over his shoulder as he darted off.

Babe’s heart pressed uncomfortably against his chest. There was nothing good about _needing_ a weapon.

“Weren’t there supposed to be four of you?” He squeezed out at the duo as they got closer. 

“He got ‘im.” The blood soaked guy said, settling back against the car.

“Who?” Babe’s brow crinkled, “The forest people?”

“Forest person.” The guy who’d helped drag his buddy said, hovering over his friend, “There was only one. Sarg shot at him a coupla times, mighta hit him. Stupid fuck nicked him.” He gestured at the bullet wound in his buddy’s shoulder.

“ ‘m tellin’ you man,” The guy croaked out, coughing, “It was that cop that busted us for drinkin’ at the baseball game.”

A hesitant smile broke out over the blonde’s face at what Babe guessed was an inside joke, “Of course.” He laughed a little, sounding more relieved than amused, “It’s been months and we get attacked by a crazy forest person during the _fuckin’ apocalypse_ but you’re still goin’ on about that damn officer.”

“That man,” He wheezed, “instilled the fear of God in me. Thought he was gonna shoot me right between the eyes. Haven’t had a drink since. Course I’m gonna see him everywhere.”

Babe listened to them banter as he watched the edge of the forest. His heart was thudding steadily in his chest and he twisted his hands around the grip of his baseball bat. It was times like these that he really wished he’d been issued a gun. He’d _seen_ Krauts, sure. He’d been fuckin’ training for this shit for months. But he hadn’t actually come face to face with a moving one since the squad car with Julian. And he was panicking a little bit, his eye catching every faux movement of brush, his breath hitching with every rustle of leaves.

Of course when Babe had convinced himself to stop having a heart attack at every imagined movement was when it emerged. Just like Spina said, she walked like she was being lead around by her head with the rest of her body dragging behind. All of his mental preparations flew through his mind. You weren’t supposed to really look at them or take in the details. Don’t look them in the eye. Don’t spend time trying to think about what they were. It was supposed to be fast.

“You gonna take care of that?” The blonde asked.

“Don’t suppose you got a gun on you?” Babe asked, his eyes never leaving the Kraut.

“Nah, Sarg was the only one with a gun and God knows what happened to him.”

Babe approached slowly and cautiously and sure, he knew what he was _supposed_ to do but he’d always been terrible at following directions. His gaze caught on the assortment of bracelets and pastel clothing, the messy braid her light hair had been pulled into. She must have been young, maybe just fifteen. He remembered watching his sister leave for her first day of high school dressed in something similar. But, like most Krauts, there was a little extra blood added to the mix, smeared across her white Bermuda’s and crusting up her arms, like she’d stuck them elbow deep in pool of it. 

He could do this. Everyone had done this. Every survivor worth his weight had. And yet here he was, hesitating. He _knew_ she wasn’t in there anymore. But she still looked human.

Then she was facing him and he had a clear look at her face. She sported the same spider web of bulging veins that the little girl from the video had. But there was no terror, no light, no expression at all. Just a dull film shading over what was left of her humanity.

“Just a matter of time before you’re not you anymore.” Babe repeated Spina’s words to himself. Not human, not you. 

The Kraut cocked it’s head toward Babe at the sound of his voice and it pulled it’s body in his direction. He took a second to line himself up with the Kraut. It moved too slow to really be a threat and he wanted a clean swing at it. Wanted to take it down in one go. 

He swung. He’d played baseball when he was younger and the coach used to call him their very own Babe Ruth. But human heads were not baseballs and the sick crunch of the connection had Babe’s swing faltering halfway through. The Kraut toppled over when the force of the bat sent it over it’s center of gravity. 

But it just tried to get right back up. And then he was angry. It washed through him as it struggled to it’s feet again. Why wasn’t it dead? Why wouldn’t it go away? Nobody wanted it. Nobody asked for it to be here. For the first time in months, the righteous fury that had governed him in the beginning of this shit reared it head and took control.

This time when Babe attacked, he lifted the bat over his head and brought it down with a force that had the skull splintering in two, spilling gray matter across the pavement. The rage that had overtaken him leaked out like the remaining fluid dribbled out of the skull cavity of the Kraut. He had to lean against his bat for support.

It was done. 

He glanced over his shoulder. The guys were too absorbed in each other to pay attention to him. The road was open and empty. He could go. He could sprint off into the forest and no one would stop him. This was what he wanted. What he’d been waiting for. He stared out into the foliage, standing over the Kraut until someone came and lead him back into town.

Babe wondered if Spina’s words held true for the uninfected too.

oOo

They found “Sarg” a few hours later. Well, what was left of him. 

He’d been strung up by his feet and hung from a branch, high enough to be out of reach of any Kraut that came along but low enough to be visible. He was only identifiable by the clothes he was wearing. His throat had been slit after he’d been strung up and the blood from the wound had coated his face. Even after most of it had been wiped off, it was still difficult to discern any sort of facial feature. He’d had the shit beat out of him and his face was swollen product.

But that wasn’t even the most disturbing part. Someone, the forest person, had torn his shirt open and had taken the time to carve ‘Don’t look for me again’ on his chest. 

Babe thought that was pretty good advice.

In the following weeks, they had record numbers of Kraut’s stumbling in from the forest. But the Mayor, instead of being concerned about the Krauts like he should have been, took it to mean that, while the forest person had gotten the Sergeant, he’d died somewhere along the way of his wounds. 

Babe was just relieved that they didn’t have to go out into the forest anymore.

oOo

They were running out of supplies.

The sort of euphoric disbelief that had hung in the air for months had dissipated as people realized that, yeah, they’d survived, but it only got harder from here on out. They were fielding more and more Krauts from all sides as they wandered toward the sounds of the town. Which meant they had more injuries and more pockets of infection. Their numbers had dwindled to less than a thousand and on top of that there was a chill that was starting to linger in the air that hadn’t been there before; signaling their shift into winter had officially begun.

This meant that the number of supply runs and scouting missions had increased. And who was qualified and trained to go on such missions out of the town, but not essential enough to be missed if something went wrong? The militia. Which was why Babe was nervously fidgeting in line next to Spina and Julian as they checked in with the assignment booth.

“Relax, Babe.” Spina said, clapping a gloved hand on Babe’s shoulder, “They know you. They’d never pick you.”

“Yeah, you’re too Goddamn clumsy to go on a mission. You’ll just get everyone you’re with in trouble.” Julian snarked.

“Next.” The woman working at the desk muttered, drowned out by their arguing.

“Yeah, alright Canoe Shoes, you wanna take this to the park-“ Babe said, kicking at Julian’s feet.

“-Next!” The woman snapped, frowning at them.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Babe held up his hands and tried to give her his most award winning smile.

He was met with an eye roll and a heavy sigh, “Name?”

“Edward Heffron.” He knew Julian and Spina were right, but he couldn’t help the tingling of nerves running through his body.

She skimmed over the roster with her pen before stopping over his name. But instead of the wave on he usually got, she made a noise and turned to get up. Babe stared in horror as she dug through her files and produced a small envelope. No. No fucking way that was for him. It was almost Winter! And he’d never been sent out before. This was practically a fucking death sentence. She cleared her throat and he fumbled as she thrust the folded piece of evil at him. 

They ended up at Julian’s. Huddled in his little closet room, sitting in a circle on the floor, with the envelope in the middle like a dangerous, mystical object they were afraid to touch.

“Not that bad? _Not that bad?!_ ” Julian squeaked, “He’s getting sent out on a fucking scouting mission! That’s uncharted territory!”

Babe moaned and dropped his head between his knees, “Really not helping, Jules.”

“The point,” Spina interrupted before it could break out into a full-blown argument, “is that the assignment isn’t going to change, whether you open it now or later tonight. Wouldn’t you rather just know?”

Babe eyed the paper. He really didn’t. It was small, thin, tearable and terrible, and it held the future of his existence in it’s partchmenty grasp. It was a good metaphor for his life: delicate and easy to rip in half.

The fucking irony of it all. He’d been waiting for this exact scenario. Hell, it was the whole reason behind joining the damn guard. To get sent out. To leave. And he’d had that chance and he’d turned it down on the road. And now, here he was, perfectly content to stay within the town, being forced to leave.

Babe took a breath and reached for the paper, “Alright, yeah, you’re right.” He started peeling away at the flap, “It can’t even be that bad. It’s almost winter, they can’t send me that far.” 

He pulled out the small index card and took a moment before flipping it over. And there it was. He put it down and flipped it over again. It was the same. The room felt like it was getting smaller and hotter by the second. It felt like a heady mix of adrenaline and terror had been injected straight into his body.

Fuck.

“Babe?” That was Spina. Babe thought he sounded far away and muffled. Like the assignment had put a physical barrier between him and them. 

Fuck.

“Shit, he’s white as a fuckin’ sheet. Is it that bad?” There was Julian. 

Babe wordlessly handed over his card to Spina. He didn’t need to look at it anymore. All his time spent avoiding the topic was for naut. The mental block he’d constructed? Demonlished. Spina had sprung up and started pacing around the room.

The little card had lots of information on it, but Babe had seen the last line line.

“For fuck’s sake Spina, at least tell me if you won’t let me see!” Julian snapped, his voice pitching.

Spina took a deep breath before beginning, “Report to the gym at 0500 hours, two days from assignment date. Supplies will be provided. Bring issued weapon. Unit: Miller, Garcia, Hashey.” He paused and gulped before the last line, “Location: Philadelphia, PA.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry this took so long. Along with the above point, emotion is not a strong point for me (more like completely unexplored) as a writer but I felt like I couldn’t do this story/chapter justice if I just skipped over it. I’m not sure if I over did it, under did it, or didn't do it all but here we have my crappy interpretation of emotions in a post apocalyptic town. 
> 
> Anyway, we're finally moving on to the more action based part of this story and I'm pretty stoked about it. I don't want to promise that the next chapter will be out faster, but I'm definitely feeling more motivated to write now that this chapter is done.
> 
> Also I saw there was another zombie AU (Till the Day is Born by rum4life) and I'm super excited about it! I haven't gotten the chance to read it yet because I've been up to my eyeballs in school stuff but I'm stoked because Zombie AUs are life and the summary already has me hooked.
> 
> Finally, if there are any errors or things I could be doing better please let me know! Also, once again, thank you for the comments and kudos!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://thecheesecakecollecter.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi. Sometimes there's stuff related to the fic. It's mostly BoB trash.


	4. Take Me Down To the Paradise City

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a work of fiction based off the actors portrayals. No disrespect meant to the real men of Easy Company. I own nothing.  
> Chapter name taken from "Paradise City" by Guns and Roses

Babe startled awake on Julian’s floor the next morning to Spina’s rough snoring, with his tongue plastered to the roof of his mouth and a bottle of Jack cradled to his chest. After Spina had read the card, Julian immediately let them into his stash of horded treasures and they spent the night indulging in alcohol and smoking cigars. Not that they’d lasted long. With their practically non-existent alcohol tolerance, the bottle that wouldn’t have stood a chance pre-apocalypse was still half full. 

Babe was finally roused from the ground when his brain started knocking on the inside of his skull to tell him he was a fucking idiot. Advil and coffee were a thing of the past, so he took a pull from the remaining liquor, hair of dog and all that, and set out stumbling down the street to the gym.

He signed in under the other three names before slouching into the room and into his seat, trying to avoid the eyes of the three other men. Seconds after Babe settled into a chair, the “debriefer” swooped in with maps and a chalkboard. He let out a chipper hello and tried to converse with them like he was their neighbor, not their executioner. His arms opened like the gates of hell and let the various maps and trinkets they’d been restraining spill across the table and suddenly he was talking about the mission.

This is what was going to happen: They would get picked up at their residences at 5:00 AM, where they would load themselves and issued bikes into a truck that would take them as close to the city as it could before they ran into road blocks, obstacles, etc. Then they would unload and proceed on _fucking bikes_ through miles of vehicles until they reached Western suburb, where it was highly advised they clear a building to stay in. The truck would move back and wait for them at a small town called Phoenixville, where they’d scouted and looted before. It was semi-secure and the driver would wait there for them for a week. If they didn’t make it back in time, the truck would head back to town and they’d be left to bike the distance home.

If that didn’t sound bad enough, they were assigned sections of the city. Miller had the South Western Suburb. Hashey and Garcia had the Northern Suburbs. And Babe. Babe had inner city duty. Since he was from there and knew “the lay of the land” or some bullshit like that. 

All in all, Babe thought it sounded like a perfectly designed plan to get them all killed, but hey, what did he know?

He ran through his options. He could run off. As soon as they got out of the car. Take a page from the forest person’s book and sprint off into the trees and get the fuck away from civilization. 

No. 

As shitty as the town was, he had people he cared about and food and a place to sleep. Maybe he could convince his squad to come with him. Or they could hunker down on the edge of the city for a couple of days, head back, and report it was completely over run.

oOo

Babe made the trek back to Julian’s in record time and relayed the whole plan to them over the rest of the whiskey. They, like Babe, thought it was absolute horseshit and wanted to yell at someone. Babe kind of wanted to yell at someone too, if he didn’t think it would get them all shot. 

His brain whispered that maybe it’d be better to get shot rather than get torn apart.

He tried to stay away from that line of thinking. He could do this. He needed to do this. 

The sun had peaked when Babe finally decided to trudge home. Julian and Spina had wanted to walk him home, but he had waved them off, claiming he needed to get his head straight before he told Doris the news. The world blurred around him as the whiskey settled heavily in his stomach, completely skipping over the warm fuzzies of intoxication and heading straight into a sort of conscious drunkenness only achieved through depressive drinking. He wasn’t sure if the rolling in his stomach was from the alcohol or the anxiety of being forced out of the town, but he had to stop and throw up in the gutter. It reeked of soured whiskey and Babe was just glad he got it out before it all hit his system.

He tried to slip into the house silently but Babe and sneaky had never really been friends. Doris’ mom burst into the foyer seconds after his hip bumped the table. He felt like he was seventeen again with the way she planted her hands on her hips and fixed with a glare before charging.

A “Where the hell have you been?!” was huffed into his ear as she collided into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, swiftly followed by a “Have you been drinking?!” when she got a whiff of his soured breath.

He just asked if the rest of the family was home. He didn’t want to have to make the announcement more than once. 

oOo

Babe had always thought he was at peace with the idea of dying. Sure, he didn’t _want_ to die, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He’d be dead. But being cognizant of the fact that he was going to die, soon and probably in a painful, disemboweling sort of way had him feeling all kinds of ways about his mortality.

And it really fucked with his ability to fall asleep. Not only was it near impossible to calm down, it felt like a waste of time. He tried to take in every inch of Doris’ face in the dull moonlight, the way the curve of her brow lead to the slope of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. The tear tracks he couldn’t see but knew were there and the puffiness of her eyes. The deep breaths and subtle snorts. He tried to enjoy the feel of the sheets caressing his clean, unmarred skin. Tried to remember everything that he’d ever done and make his twenty-two years feel like it was enough. 

Babe meant to turn his alarm off before it went off. He didn’t think he could handle having Doris awake when he left. But he must have at least dozed off, because there it was, ringing shrilly in the silence of the room and there she was, shooting up in bed.

Babe could practically see the realization of what the alarm meant dawn on her face.

They had thirty minutes. Babe hadn’t cried in a long time. But the slickness from Doris’ face pressed against his neck set him off and suddenly he was soaking her shirt with his own tears. It felt both timeless and limited. Every time he glanced at the shitty, battery powered clock he’d been loaned, it had stolen more and more time from them until it was five minutes to five A.M and the truck would be rolling down their street and Babe would have to get out of bed and away from Doris and this family that had taken him in like their own.

oOo

It was going to be a shit show. Babe could already tell. All four of them were nervous and twitchy as the truck drove around to the gate of the town. It was obvious that none of them had slept and Miller kept twisting the wedding band around his finger. It didn’t help that the driver was completely silent, like they were cattle headed to a slaughter, not human beings heading out to scout a city.

When they actually drove out of the town, it was absolutely anticlimactic. Babe figured there should be people standing by to throw them flowers and wave them off to their noble deaths, maybe even some kind of soft, sad music to let the people watching know that it was the end for them.

But the only soundtrack he got were Hashey’s rough coughs and Garcia’s sniffles as the town disappeared behind the horizon. 

They drove for hours. At first, all Babe did was study the polaroid Doris had pressed into his hand before he left, trying to memorize the details. It was one of the last photos that had been taken in the town. Doris had her arms thrown around him, mouth pressed to his cheek in a smile. Babe himself was grinning like an idiot with a Burger King crown on his head, holding a big box covered in patchwork job of newspaper. Julian and Spina loitered in the background, making faces at the camera. Babe scoffed. It’d been taken on his birthday, way back in May. It was then, that day that really solidified the people he’d met in the town as family. 

He eventually had to put the picture away when his vision got too blurry to see the details. He didn’t want to mess it up with water stains and tried to focus on the scenery outside. Babe hadn’t really given much thought to the concept of the apocalypse but now he was getting a first hand look. Weeds and vegetation spilled out and over the roads, popping up through cracks and reclaiming the asphalt. Every mile or so they’d pass by cars, some simply abandoned, with their doors left thrown open and others crunched beyond repair or torched completely. There weren’t as many bodies as Babe had been expecting, probably because most of them had the ability to get up and walk away, postmortem. The one’s they did see were badly mangled or stretched out over the course of a few feet.

And then there was a hint of the Philly skyline, peaking over the trees and Babe knew they were close. They hit the field of cars seconds later. At first, there were only a few, like before, some in the ditch running along the side of the road, or abandoned and easy to swerve around. But as they went, the car population only got denser and denser. They even swerved into the opposing lanes through a crumbled part of the divider, but they only made it a few more miles before they were filled to the brim with cars facing the wrong way and the truck could go no further.

Babe’s heart rate inversely mirrored the speed of the car as they slowed to a stop. They sat staring out at the horizon as the sun rose, trying to take in the peace and quiet before they set out on this suicide mission.

“Listen,” Hashey lurched at the sound of the driver’s voice, “We uh, we got a transmission last night. From the city. It was pretty rough, but we confirmed there are people living inside the inner city. And we need you guys to make contact.”

The guy carried on for a few minutes about it but Babe had stopped listening. 

People. Alive. In Philadelphia. The little box in his mind where he’d placed every thought of his family splintered into tiny, little pieces. He hopelessly tried to suppress the emotion that washed through him. They could be alive. He could practically feel his older brother’s hands messing up his hair and smell his mom’s perfume. He could-

No. He had to physically shake his head against the thoughts. There were _people_. Not specifically his family. But there was a possibility and he couldn’t afford to hide out for the duration of the scout. He needed to know. 

oOo

At least the movies got something right. The graveyard of cars was exactly as advertised, with shattered glass and abandoned possessions scattered across the road. Except with way more body parts. As they weaved through the cars, it seemed like there were dried viscera and limbs to avoid every few feet. 

After an endless amount of miles, the road opened up again. It looked like someone had been clearing the cars by steering them off onto the shoulders but stopped about halfway through. Babe was just thankful for an unobstructed road. They could all ride side by side and there were fewer places for any potential Krauts to be lurking behind. It meant they could go faster. 

They reached West Philadelphia around midday and not with out serious heart attack material. Krauts had stumbled out after them a few times and they’d had to book it out of the street before the Krauts could start moaning. Babe had never biked so far or so fast in his entire life but he was so wired with energy and so desperate to get into the city that his aching legs felt trivial. There were things to do and people to find and he had no time for that shit. 

They ended up scoping out a set of condominiums that faced a huge park. Garcia looked like he was about ready to puke and Hashey didn’t look much better. They wanted to clear the building and lay low for a while. Which, up until about three hours ago, was Babe’s plan. But now he had a very real, very important personal interest in getting himself into the city as soon as possible. Finally, they came to a compromise. Garcia and Hashey would stay behind and clear the building and Babe and Miller would go out and scope their areas to see if there were any hints of life. They’d bike back before sunset to make a plan and move out the next day. There was a unanimous, albeit grudgingly on Babe’s part, agreement that no one would be going into the city alone.

Miller and Babe rode out together after they confirmed the plan. Babe liked Miller. He had this calm confidence that set Babe at ease. The other two’s nervous skittering was putting him on edge and he knew they had every right to be shitting themselves. Babe was shitting himself a little bit too. But he didn’t need a group think mentality of “we must panic at every second” to reinforce his psyche. This was _the most important_ task, job, whatever the fuck Babe had even been asked to do. He needed to be confident. He would not fuck this up.

oOo

Babe’s mission was turning out to be a helluva lot harder than he thought it would be. He was clued into this fact when he got to the remains of a bridge that he’d crossed regularly his whole life. He’d gotten about a quarter of the way across it by hopping over remnants of sand bag barriers when he almost tumbled head first into the rushing waters of the Schuylkill below. 

He managed to overbalance in the right way, falling back against the barrier and letting out a long string of expletives. He took a few moments to let his heart return to normal before opening his eyes. The other part of the bridge was a good fifteen feet away, crumbling into the river. Babe briefly entertained the idea of trying to jump it, but his brain presented him with an image of himself splattered across the concrete remnants that poked out of the water. Right. He pressed himself more against the sandbags.

The best worst thing about the bridge was that he was now parallel with the other two bridges next to this one and it was clear to see that they had suffered the same fate. Even though this made Babe’s job exponentially harder, a little flame of hope curled in his stomach. Krauts were destructive, sure. But they couldn’t blow up bridges. If all these bridges had been systematically destroyed, maybe, _just maybe_ , there actually was life in Philly. Maybe they’d done it to use the river as a natural barrier. The town had a river running along one side and it was by far the safest part of the town. Or maybe it was to cut off access to the city and filter people in through one bridge for better regulation.

That’d be pretty fuckin’ brilliant.

oOo

Fucking brilliant indeed.

He’d made his way down river, coming across bridge after bridge. And every single one was littered with gaping holes and sandbags. Some were so bad there was barely enough left for him to realize that they used to be bridges.

He leaned against the railing of his latest disappointment and tapped out a cigarette from the pack Julian had pressed into his hand before he’d left. The sun began to hide behind him but he wasn’t paying attention to the fading light. The Girard Point Bridge was just visible on the horizon before the river spilled into the Delaware and cut him off from continuing into Jersey. Like all the bridges before it, the middle had been scooped out and dumped into the river. It was his last hope. There was a silver lining came in the form of the still intact framework that ran over the top of the bridge that kept the city connected to the suburb. He could definitely get across but it’d take some serious balls. He sighed and lit his cigarette. 

There were about a hundred and one shitty bridges leading across the river in the Northern part of Philly, where the river was narrow and shallow, that he could have crossed if he had just gone the other way. But he’d figured it’d be safer to continue on the suburb side of the city until he had to head into the incredibly densely populated part. And it had been. He’d barely seen any Krauts on his ride, just a few that were already occupied with a bloody mass of something or other. But now he regretted it. The sun had started it’s descent and he’d have to start heading back soon unless he wanted to find a place in the Southwestern Suburb to hide out in until morning-

A crash and residual clatter sounded behind him and Babe nearly pitched backward over the railing. He crashed down to his knees behind a barrier, sucking in a breath.

“Okay, breath Babe.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “You’ve faced Krauts before, you can do it again.” Every survivor worth his salt could take down a fuckin’ Kraut solo, so could Babe.

He slipped his bat from his backpack and popped his head up over the barrier.

There was no Kraut.

That he could see anyway. For stumbling, undead husks of human beings, they could be surprisingly sneaky. With his bat at the ready, he carefully made his way back to the base of the bridge, ducking behind every set of barriers to take quick surveys before sprinting to the next set. His chest hurt from where his heart was punching at his ribcage, pumping adrenaline through his arteries, just waiting for a Kraut to jump out at him. 

By the time he’d made it to the start of the bridge, he’d worked himself into an impressive state of panic. There was something somewhere on the bridge and the fact that he couldn’t see it was derailing his sanity. He clambered to the top of a barrier for a final look. But there was nothing. No Kraut. Not even an animal. Just a bunch of sandbags, a few cars, and his bike-

Wait.

Where was his bike?

He frowned and looked behind him.

Where the fuck was his bike?! It was red and shiny. There was no way he could miss it. He hopped down from his vantage point and started toward the base of the bridge-

He squeaked as his foot connected with something solid and sent it skittering across the pavement. The scraping sound ran up his spine and sent every single hair on his neck rising to attention. He backed himself up against a barrier and brandished his bat in front of him. But there was still nothing. Except for the sun glinting off a scrap of metal. Babe rolled his eyes and forced himself to relax. At this rate he’d be more likely to die from a self-induced heart attack than any sort of Kraut related reason.

After he completed some deep breathing exercises so his heart would stop pounding in his ears, he went to investigate the item. The militia had preached that everything was useful and anything could be used as a weapon. And as Babe was bound to head into the belly of the beast eventually, he needed all the weaponry he could get. 

He didn’t realize what it was until he had it in his hand. 

It was a bike lock. 

More importantly, it was his bike lock, with the key still dangling from one end.

That had been on his bike.

That he didn’t use.

Because who the hell needed to lock a bike in the fucking apocalypse?

Apparently Babe fuckin’ Heffron.

The air swooshed around him as he stood and stared at the abandoned U-lock that had been tinkling against the metal of his bike for the majority of his ride. The implication of it lying alone in the middle of the bridge combined with his invisible bike was fairly obvious.

Fucking typical. It was such a Babe thing to happen. Only he would get his bike stolen in an abandoned city while he was sitting on his ass, barely twenty feet away. If he wasn’t screwed before, he definitely was now. The safe house was about an hour away by bike. He didn’t even want to think about how long it would take to walk there, let alone back to Phoenixville.

He seethed through his teeth to stop the angry yell that burned in his throat as he shook the lock.

The key clattered as he shook the lock, trying to break it in frustration. He seethed through his teeth as the lock stubbornly stayed in shape.

oOo

The sun was dipping dangerously low on the horizon by the time Babe made the executive decision to head into the South Western Suburb to try and find Miller and convince him to stick around. And he was feeling like an idiot. He should have just headed back to the house. How was he even going to find Miller? If you couldn’t hunt someone down in a Philly suburb on a good day, pre-apocalypse, how in God’s name were you going to find them when it was in both party’s interest to be as sneaky and as quiet as possible?

He’d pretty much shot himself in the foot by heading into the suburb. But there was no way he could make it back to base before the sun set and he became a slice of prime Babe, fresh for the picking. He had to find shelter soon.

So, resigned to his fate and with the hesitance of a child hedging down the staircase into the dark, creepy basement, Babe began to navigate his way to the suburb. He wasn’t about to be ‘that guy’ in the movies who kicks a stray can or steps on shattered glass and alerts every infected in a ten mile radius. Especially since he’d already done it once and gotten lucky enough not to die. To do it twice would be Darwin Award worthy.

The forty-minute journey consisted of him creeping through the shrubbery along the shoulder to avoid the Tetris maze that filled the road. He gave up on wading through the greens and took to the road about halfway through. He got to appreciate the collection of cars in a way he hadn’t before. There were remnants of life everywhere. People had computers, TVs, and even modern art packed into their cars, like they were precious family members that couldn’t be left behind. Babe tried his hand at looting through the mess, hoping he could find some kind of usable relic from the past but stopped after digging through a car and finding a not quite as dead as he appeared man decomposing in the backseat. He slammed the door shut and decided it’d best to just run the rest of the way.

oOo

Babe was getting pretty tired of nearly diving head first into destruction. He’d vaulted over a pile up of cars and ended up tet-tering on the edge of a massive pit. 

The whole intersection looked like a warzone. Where the road had been a neatly put together puzzle, this was the mess of pieces when you first opened the box. Cars spun out in every direction and a streetlight lay sprawled in the middle of it all, scorch marks running along the ground and over the vehicles. Pieces of cars and bodies in various states of decay lay scattered sparsely over the ground and fell into pockmarks left behind by military grade weaponry.

The huge pit in front of him was definitely the result of the tanks residing on the other side of the intersection. A half a Kraut clawed around at the bottom, covered in mud, trailing its innards through the dirt. It had the most intact body of all the bungled remains and Babe’s imagination ran wild, supplying him with plenty of images of what must have happened here.

But most importantly, there was a store. While Babe from two hours ago would have avoided it like the plague (hah!), Babe right now was getting a little anxious about having enough supplies to last him back to the town. He hemmed and hawed over the pros and cons of checking it out, but if he really was as fucked as he felt, a little extra food and water wouldn’t hurt.

Plus, he’d always wanted to loot a store during the apocalypse.

oOo

Babe’s bag slapped against his back, rattling with every stride. The first thing they’d been told at the militia was to be as quiet as possible. It was literally the first rule. But Babe could really give less of a shit at the moment with a gaggle of infected trailing after him. If they were already on his tail, it didn’t really matter if he was completely silent or belting out the National Anthem. They’d still be stumbling after him as he tore down the highway.

Whatever was in his bag gave a huge clatter as he scrambled over a pile up of cars. The thing was, he had been quiet. And it hadn’t been enough. All it took was for one Kraut sitting locked up in an overturned car to start banging on the window and screeching and that was it. Babe’d been maybe fifteen feet from the store, just close enough to notice that every window was smashed in and smeared with blood when the Kraut decided to alert everyone to his presence. And presto. It was like the Krauts spawned in the store, trying to slide their weathered bodies over the openings in the windows. Most of them got stuck, practically gutting themselves on the jagged glass and spilling a whole mess of entrails over the ground. But once there’d been a nice level of padding put down, the Krauts behind the first wave started slithering their way over the others, coming out of the station like ants from a kicked hill.

So now here he was, approaching the suburb way ahead of schedule but with a major set back. He skidded off the main road and down a residential street. He’d become a human scanner, considering every option as he sprinted past house after house. They were all too close to the freeway, too exposed, too _not safe_. He needed distance but he needed shelter more. The sun had all but set and being out at night was never good in Philly, especially now. At least now the people wouldn’t be sneaky about trying to attack you. They’d just come out with teeth bared and jaws snapping.

He slowed as he got deeper into the residential area, scanning for a house that didn’t look like it would start spewing out undead if he got with in fifteen feet of it. The brick condos at the end of the block looked promising. They seemed pretty removed from the shit show of the rest of the street and had a nice, waist high chain link fence surrounding the yard. He peeked over his shoulder just as a couple Krauts rounded the corner. If he got inside fast they would probably miss him completely. He leapt over the fence and bounded up to the door.

It was unlocked and for one fleeting second, Babe was stoked that something finally went his way. But as he flung the door open he realized that things that were unlocked were probably unlocked because their owners were too busy being dead inside. It almost looked like they were surprised to see him, the way they paused their shuffling in the hall way and swung their heads in eerie synchronicity to look at him. But no. They were just confirming that he was “ _meat, yes, good, eat_ ” before stumbling forward. The dad’s scuffed loafers had just started crossing the threshold when Babe slammed the door shut in his face and tried to high tail it out of there. 

A couple of things happened. One, he fell. He’d completely forgotten about the stoop he was standing on, so when he stepped back, he’d been expecting solid ground. He got air instead and landed flat on his ass. Two, because he was spread-eagled on the ground he had a prime view of the door as it started splintering under the pressure from the family inside. Three, he could hear the fence behind him protesting from the duress of several bodies trying to clamber over it. 

He was on his feet and sprinting across the yard seconds after the glass from the door came raining down on his face, cutting into his skin. He could barely feel the sting of the glass because it didn’t _matter_. The whole block was ruined and he was so so so fucked. Not only did the fence suck at keeping them out, now he was in there with them and he wouldn’t be able to get them out. And they’d made too much noise. He could hear banging behind multiple doors as he ran past. Not that any of that mattered much, he was going to fucking die. Probably from the Krauts behind him but mostly because one of the windows in front of him shattered as an infected punched his way through the glass.

It was already snarling at him as it flopped out of the hole.

Jesus, this was it wasn’t it? Doris flashed through his mind and Babe was going to throw up, like physically and metaphysically and all that shit. He was scared. He was shitting himself. His intestines gave a violent lurch, like they were already being ripped from his body.

But.

There was another half of Babe. He’d been hiding, dormant inside of him. And that Babe was fucking sick and tired of being scared all the Goddamn time. There were dead people walking around and eating people. So what? He’d made a fucking promise and he was going to get back to Doris. He was going to live. 

There was no way he was getting eaten today.

The bat was in his hand before he even registered that he’d reached for it and he really couldn’t have put the Kraut in a better position if he wanted to. It struggled on his hands and knees with it’d head teed up perfectly between it’s shoulders.

He didn’t even have to break stride as he swung and maybe that’s why the splatter and the crunch were so impressive. He felt _good_ as he ran past the carnage, the body collapsing behind him.

He was going to _fucking live_.

oOo

There were two options. The first was a store, complete with boarded up windows and bodies scattered out front, like someone had made a final stand there. The second was really only half an option, a balcony that stretched just above an overturned car. In theory, it was the better choice. But Babe’s legs ached from all the running and even with the extra height from the car it would take one helluva leap.

But as hard as it would for him, it’d be even harder for the undead and Babe liked to think that he was just a little more coordinated than them. 

The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t run forever. If he kept going he was either going to alert more and more Krauts until he had the entire suburb coming after him. That and his eyes stung from the constant blood flow of the cuts that he had to wipe away.

The Krauts moaned behind him and his legs gave a dangerous wobble.

He needed to make a decision. Right now.

oOo

All things considered, it went better than expected.

Babe felt like Bruce Willis. The car protested as he ran up the underside but stayed steady until he neared the edge. Just as the car began to teeter with his added weight, he gathered his legs under him and leapt.

And he made it. Mostly. Besides nearly braining himself against the concrete landing, his hands stayed firmly latched to the railing with a death grip his baby cousins would have been jealous of. Once his head stopped spinning, he shimmied up the poles, swinging himself side to side to inch himself up to the top.

With one last burst of strength, he pushed his upper body over the guardrail and tried to swing a leg over. Instead, he over balanced, flipping over the railing and landing on his back with a pathetic squeak.

But Babe could really give less of a shit. Everything was good. Everything was fucking amazing. Even though his arms were screaming and his legs felt like overcooked noodles. Because he was up here and they were down there and nothing had come barreling out of the sliding glass door to have a go at his jugular.

He fist bumped at the small smattering of stars that had started to appear and croaked out a “Thanks” before the consciousness leaked out of his body and exhaustion took over.

oOo

If someone ever wrote a survival guide for this shit, Babe’s apartment would be the textbook example of what you’d want for shelter. When he had enough strength to kick in a section of the door, he found there were no surprise inhabitants except for sentient bowl of cereal that had been left out for six months. Almost everything edible had been cleared out, except for a few cans of beans and a couple gallons of water. And it was almost strategic heaven. Not only was it on the second floor, someone before Babe had completely blocked off the staircases into the building so the dedicated following of Krauts Babe had collected had no way to get in. 

This also meant he couldn’t get out until they left.

And he while he had a whole four cans of beans plus the stuff in his backpack, he knew it wouldn’t last. Not to mention he desperately needed antiseptics for the swelling cuts on his face that he’d discovered as he looked in a mirror.

The crowd of infected had mostly dispersed after he’d made his way into the apartment to wait them out. But that had been three days ago. Since then he’d run out of cigarettes and already plowed through three cans of beans and a handful of power bars. He’d tried to cut back but now his subconscious had taken to whispering “ _fooooood_ ” and “ _cigarettes_ ” at all hours of the day and it was getting really, really hard to ignore. Especially when there was a big, beautiful store with a sign boasting hot dogs and slupries and _chips and cigarettes_. And it was right there.

Logistically, he knew the store had probably been looted and gutted, but Jesus Christ he wasn’t looking for a miracle, he was just looking for a bag of fucking anything and some goddamn smokes.

oOo

As it turned out, the store still had a very dedicated and very violent employee. Steve, if the nametag handing off the remnants of his shirt was to be trusted, was missing his nose and half the skin on his face. He looked like one of those dicks at work that got employee of the month every month and made sure to make life a living hell. And he was fucking huge.

He decided to announce his presence by popping up in the dusty window and scaring the shit out of Babe as he tried to get a good look in the store. That wasn’t even the worst part. Steve, the asshole, started banging on the window, making all kinds of noise.

“Steve, no, come on, don’t be like that-“

Steve gave a particularly hard pound against the glass and groaned.

“Steve, seriously, you’re not even going to eat those chips!”

A distant crash of trashcan lids clattering to the ground was all it took for Babe to sprint back to his makeshift sheet rope. He knew better than to stick around when Krauts started making noise because when one started getting loud, they all started swarming.

He scrambled back up to his balcony just in time. The infected in the area had emerged from their depths to check out the noise and crowded the street. Babe groaned as they shuffled around the concrete, running into each other and making even more noise. The street had been fucking clear and he could have gotten out of this fucking suburb. But no, he just had to push his luck. And now he was stuck again and running out of time to get back to the others. He could have made it in four days. Now though… he’d have to do some serious sprinting and praying.

He could just make out the outline of Steve slumping away from the window.

Fucking Steve.

oOo

It was an actual miracle. Babe couldn’t believe his eyes. There, on a completely Kraut free street, was his bike, propped up against a fence, cherry red and shining in the morning sun, like a beacon of hope. It was beautiful. He could totally make it back to the meet up point now. He could even check in the city. They still had two days left before the truck left. It’d be a close call, but he could make it, he _would_ make it. He would’ve made it anyway, even if he had to walk. He made a promise. But after having two nights of dreams about working under fucking Steve in a shitty gas station as he horded all the chips, this was like waking up on Christmas morning and finding a big, life saving present under the tree.

He took a moment to look over Doris’ picture before wrapping up his meager collection of belongings into his bag. He had to bite his lip to reign in the delighted giggle that rose in his throat as he shimmied down the rope. The air was quiet and still as he dropped to the ground and he tip toed carefully to keep it that way, ducking behind ruins of cars and belongings to check the road as he went.

He did a final sweep of the street behind the closest car and _finally_ he crept up to his bike. Oh yes. Ohhhh yes. He ran his hands along the body, mostly to confirm to himself that it was real and he wasn’t just hallucinating. Half of him wanted to cry and the other half wanted to laugh. That bitch that stole his bike was going to wish they hadn’t ditched the lock. He slipped said lock over the handlebars and-

The hair on his neck rose. It was one of those six sense moments. The ones where there’s no evidence, but you just know something’s there, behind you. And even though Babe had had enough false alarms to last a lifetime, he still froze to let the feeling pass.

But it didn’t. He watched out of his periphery as a red axe that looked like it’d been lifted from a fire station slowly leveled itself at an executional angle with his neck.

“Get ya grimy hands off _my bike_ , ya fuckin’ zeek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts:  
> 1\. Finals suck  
> 2\. I suck  
> 3\. This chapter was really frustrating to write  
> 4\. Listening to the Stress Relief playlist/Donnie Darko soundtrack really puts you in a post apocalypse mood.  
> 5\. The scenes where Babe checks out the bridges are actually the first parts of this story I ever wrote, which is cool because I finally got past it but also sad because its take so long to get here.  
> 6\. I got the Zombies, Run app because my season is officially over and let me tell you it is so motivating  
> 7\. You are beautiful. Thanks for reading!!


	5. I Can Tell That We Are Gonna Be Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *holds up SpongeBob narrator card* ten years later...
> 
> This chapter title is from The White Stripes song We're Gonna Be Friends. This fic is based off of the actors portrayals of the men and is no way meant to disrespect the real men of Easy Company.

Babe had to admit, it was nice to hear a human voice. Even if it’s owner was about to chop his head off with an axe.

In fact, Babe had about five seconds to dive out of the way before said axe made First Contact with the tendons in his neck.

He hit the ground hard, scraping his palms against the pavement and rolling until he was situated on his hands and knees, facing his attacker. With a gleam in his eye that was on the right side of wild and a stubborn set to his jaw, the guy was exactly what Babe imagined a post apocalyptic, badass zombie slayer would look like. He even had a leather jacket pulled on over his stocky shoulders and a silver cross necklace that dipped low over his grimy white wife beater. That, paired with his massive weapon and liberal blood splatter, made the guy look like a greaser turned axe murder. If his hair was slicked back Babe could almost see him singing Grease Lightning and prancing around a garage. 

If he hadn’t stolen the bike, Babe was sure he’d think the guy looked pretty rad. But he did. And Babe sort of hated his guts for it and kind of wanted to rip him a new one. But no, he shook his head, he needed to be diplomatic so he could get the bike and get the fuck out.

The guy swore and hefted his axe into the air again.

“Jesus Christ man-“ Babe squeaked, pushing off his hands and falling back on his ass.

The guy swore again, this time in surprise, letting the axe chink against the pavement between Babe’s legs instead of continuing in his mission to behead him.

“You’re alive?”

Babe gaped up at the would be axe murderer, “Are you fucking kidding me? _‘You’re alive?’_ What kinda bullshit question is that? Of course I’m fuckin’ alive. I didn’t attack you on sight.” 

“Shit kid, you can’t blame me for thinkin’ you were a zeke. Ya got blood everywhere and ya face is all fucked up.” The guy narrowed his eyes, “In fact, it looks a little infected to me.”

Shit. Babe knew his face was bad, if the tight sensitivity of his skin was anything to go by. He neglected looking in the mirror in the apartment out of denial and fear. But this just confirmed it. 

“Hey! First of all, fuck you. I’m beautiful.” Babe hissed, trying to bring the focus off his fucked up face, “Second, I had a run in with some broken glass. And third,” He fixed the guy with a glare and a finger, “this is your fault, if you hadn’t _stolen my bike¬¬-_ “ So much for diplomacy.

“-whoa whoa whoa,” If the guy wasn’t angry before, he was now, “ _your_ bike? Nu-uh. This thing was sitting all pretty and shiny by itself on-“

“Yeah! On the fuckin’ bridge, I know! I put it there. I was right there!” Babe whisper-yelled back, trying not to start flat out yelling and alerting Fucking Steve to their fleshy, stupid human problems.

“You can’t blame me. You got a valuable resource like a fuckin’ bike, you can’t just leave it out in the open. That’s like leavin ya keys in a damn Ferrari with an open door in Las Vegas, pre-zeke. And I didn’t take it cuz I just thought it looked pretty. I need it. If you needed it so goddamn bad, you wouldn’t have left it layin’ around.” The guy sneered. Babe was doing a real bang up job of meeting good people. First Fucking Steve, now this asshole. 

“What makes you think I don’t need it too? I got people-“ People that Babe desperately needed to get back to. This whole solo, loan wolf thing was cool in the movies, but it was definitely detrimental to his mental health, leaving him paranoid and lonely at every turn.

“-I got people too, same as you! And if you’ve been leavin’ shit around the whole time and expectin’ people not to take it, I’m surprised you’re still alive.” Travolta interrupted. Babe was entering dangerous levels of angry now. It wasn’t like he wanted to be out here. They’d practically shoved him out of the town. He didn’t know what the fuck to do out here in the actual apocalypse.

“Alright, Jon Travolta-“ Babe found himself snapping before he could get a handle on himself and his volume.

“The fuck did ya just call me, string bean? Listen up, you little shit-“ Babe had officially triggered some sort of tripwire in the guy because he was getting pink in the face as he ranted. Babe suspected he was a little red too with the way the cut on his eyebrow throbbed as he opened his mouth to start quiet screaming back at him.  
Just as he was about to really start laying into the guy when he heard it. It was distant but he could definitely make out the sound of Fucking Steven pounding on the window. He chanced a glance over his shoulder. The street was still clear and his sheet was still fluttering in the wind. But he still really _really_ needed to get off the street. Now. 

“Okay well this little debate team practice was fun,” Babe cut across Travolta’s tirade and made for the bike, “but I gotta go. So I’ll just take _my_ bike and we can go our separate ways-“

“No, how about I take _my_ goddamn bike,” He was brandishing the axe now, “and you run back off to where ever the hell you came from.”

Stumbling figures were making their ways out of their hiding places behind cars and houses, shuffling into the road just a block up. Babe cast a look at the bike and then once again at his balcony. He ached to get home, back to Doris and back to safety. It could take him months to get back to the town without the bike and without the ride home. But the Krauts were still steadily making their way toward the store where Fucking Steve was throwing his pissy bitch fit.

Fuck the bike. He needed to make it home in one piece.

He fully intended on sprinting away into the sunset, screaming fuck you over his shoulder as the stupid greaser got torn apart. Maybe he’d even get to come back and pry the bike out of his cold dead Kraut hands. That was before he saw the shattered glass raining from the house they’d been having their silent screaming match under. 

Babe had fuck all experience when it came to this apocalypse shit. It was like he’d been thrust into a foreign, war-torn country with no knowledge of the culture, no map, and no way to know whats what. There were things you were supposed pick up along the way, a sort of unspoken etiquette through experience. And Babe didn’t know any of it. But he was very familiar with glass bursting from windows. In fact, he was pretty sure he still had some in his face from his last encounter. 

Nothing about this situation was surprising to him and for the first time since meeting the greaser, he had the upper hand. What was surprising was that instead of letting the guy get a nice, stinky dead person package from above and taking off with the bike, Babe found himself tackling the Grease wannabe out of the way. A sick thud and subsequent screeching sounded behind them seconds after they hit the ground. Babe practically flew to his feet and grabbed the weapon closest to him.

The steel of the axe was smooth and still warm from Travolta’s grip. The balance was wonky compared to his bat. For a second Babe considered trying to look for it in the grass but the Kraut was already clawing itself towards then with a single arm, the other incapacitated, with a bone poking up through the shoulder and bits of tendon and muscle handing off of it. Babe’s arm was tingling just from looking at it. No time. He’d have to make due. He twirled the handle of the axe so the cutting edge faced up and swung at an angle.

Babe had learned a while ago that you needed to fully commit to the swing if you wanted the best result. With baseball bats there was a firework of the crusty blood goo that all Krauts seemed to secrete, mixed in with the skull fragments, and decaying gray matter. Which was kind of cool once you got over the need to throw up every time you did it. 

Axes, Babe realized, were so much cooler. He went in with a golf swing and completely severed the head. The angle of the blade had carried the head up and sent it flying over the yard’s hedge and skittering into the driveway next door. He hefted the axe above his head and struck a victory pose, barely suppressing an excited roar. He spun to face Travolta with a smug grin on his face, ready to gloat and barter, but he was already up on his feet and dusting himself off.

“Yeah, alright, good job, don’t be a fuckin’ asshole about it Red.” He snarked, picking up Babe’s bat.

Babe scowled and patted his hair, “Real creative insult there, Travolta.”

“What? Like Travolta’s any better? And I don’t believe in usin’ names for skinny shits that are just gonna get me killed,” Travolta said, eyeing the mob coming down the street, “but listen, I have a proposition-“

“Yeah, yeah you get the bike and I beat it. Got that one loud and clear buddy.” Babe said, rolling his eyes.

“No, look, can I run with you for a little while? It seems like you got a hide-y hole around here somewhere.” Travolta hunched into himself and looked off to the side like he was embarrassed about asking. 

Babe tried to keep the surprise off of his face, but he knew he’d failed when Travolta barked out a laugh at him.

“You keep lookin’ over ya shoulder, kid, not real slick.”

Babe tried to compose himself, “Yeah? And what makes you think I’d share it with you?” He could make a whole list of why that would be a bad idea with the fact that the guy could kill him as soon as they got up to the apartment at the top and having to share a space with him at the bottom. There wasn’t anything that Babe would take from this asshole in exchange for that.

“I’ll uh,” Travolta sighed and ran a hand over his face, “I’ll let you have the bike. And I think I have some penicillin. For ya face.”

Fuck.

Those were two things he’d definitely take. 

Of course, the guy could just kill him once they got to the balcony, but this was the best option yet. Babe couldn’t say no.

“Fine.” Babe eyed him.

“Fine.” Travolta repeated. They stared each other down like some back alley high school fight before Travolta’s eyes flicked to Babe’s hands.

“But I want my axe back.” 

“Alright,” Babe hesitated for a moment before warily handing over the weapon.

The guy relaxed a little once the axe was back in his hands, “So what’s the plan, Red?”

Babe chewed his lip and looked down the street. They were a good distance from the balcony, but the Kraut’s had just stumbled onto their block and there were none heading towards them from the other side. They still had time.

“We run.”

oOo

“What a great plan, Red.” The guy grunted, relieving a Kraut of its head, “ _Run_ , why didn’t I think of that?”

“Fuck _off_!” Babe snapped between swings, “If you had your way, you’d be bikin’ into that swarm comin’ up the street and I’d be sittin’ nice and cozy watching the show outside the splash zone.”

“C’mon Red I already gave ya the bike, what more do you want from me?” Travolta grunted through his teeth as tried to jerk his axe away from a Kraut that’d gotten its hands around the hilt.

Babe thrust his bat forward into a Kraut’s chest, forcing it backward so he had a clean swing at its head. Once his Kraut collapsed to the ground he turned to the one that had its claws wrapped around the axe and took a shot at its knees. It didn’t even get a chance to make it all the way to the ground before the axe was bisecting its head.

“That’s twice you owe me.” Babe threw over his shoulder as they took off down the street.

“Well if I ever find another bike I’ll let you know.” Travolta growled, keeping pace with him, “How much farther?”

“You see that balcony with the bed sheet?” Babe panted back. His legs were approaching that overcooked noodle feeling again and he _prayed_ that there would be no more surprise Krauts popping out of no where to slow them down.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” Travolta laughed, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey all those shitty teen movies were good for something, am I right?”

All Babe got in reply was a snort. They were close, right there. Babe had meant to get there first, he really did. But Krauts had a very special talent for ruining his plans. He didn’t even see it coming. One second he was running and the next his foot was catching on a fleshy body wiggling its way out from under a car. His hands, already scrapped and bloodied, ripped against the ground again, stinging like fucking hell fire. 

“Fuck!” He hissed and scrambled to his feet. Travolta was already monkeying his way up the sheet. It was fucking over for Babe. There was no way he’d get up to that balcony alive. But, he looked back over the shoulder to where the Kraut was screeching, arms wind-milling in a desperate attempt to get free and snack on Babe, he knew there were worse alternatives. He hoped the fall killed him. 

Where the task of shimmying up the sheet had been difficult before, it now had the added effect of being excruciatingly painful. He left a trail of bloody handprints as he tried to get to the top before Travolta got smart and cut him loose.

Things got really bad when the rope went taut beneath him. He didn’t need to look down to figure out that a Kraut had gotten hold of the sheet and was trying its very best to follow Babe up, which was sort of comforting because if Krauts were anything, they were clumsy and un-athletic and probably couldn’t make it up a sheet if their undead lives depended on it. But they also weigh as much as regular humans do and bed sheets really weren’t meant for supporting two fully-grown people trying to use it as a rope. Babe's brain hysterically provided him with an image of himself on a twisted post-apocalyptic American Ninja Warrior where instead of falling into the water, you'd get eaten. But he had bigger things to worry about then his mind suddenly coming up with freaky gameshow ideas.

Babe could count the ripping of the sheet as one of the worst sounds of his life, up there with his mother crying and the noise his truck makes when it decides its done for the day. He tried to frantically climb the last couple of inches so he could at least hold onto the railing but it was too late. He watched in horror as the last threads tethering him to safety tore apart. Travolta was going to have his apartment and his bike and Babe was going to be Kraut food. All Babe really hoped was that his dead body would call enough Krauts out so that Travolta would be fucked when he tried to leave.

But then a set of hands, looking like they came out of the sun like a fucking divine intervention, caught the sheet just as it ripped. He sat there in limbo, gripped the sheet with his life and gaping up at the golden, blood-speckled hands. It couldn’t be right. This would be the moment where they let go, let Babe fall to his nice, Kraut cushioned death, accompanied by a symphony of cackling as he descended. Maybe with a “Long live the King!” thrown in there for good, dramatic measure. 

Instead he got, “C’mon kid, fucking grab the railing, you and that zeke are too heavy to haul up.” 

Christ, Babe loved Travolta, bike stealing be damned. It took a second for him to get his arms working again but he managed to get his blood-slicked hands on the bars above him. The sheet fluttered away as Babe tried to make his way up the metal. Where the cotton of the sheet had absorbed his blood, the railing just allowed him to gloss the surface, making it that much harder to get a grip, leaving his hand to keep slipping down the bars. He kept making progress before he lost his solid hold and slid back to the bottom of the rungs.

“Alright, just get a little closer, you got this-“

And all of a sudden the beautiful hands wrapped around his biceps and yanked him the rest of the way up. Babe flopped over the railing and crashed to the ground next to Travolta. For the second time, he found himself gasping up at the sky from the balcony. His vision swam and his body felt like it had passed over cooked and settled into a soggy mass but goddamn, they fucking _made it_. And Travolta hadn’t given him up for dead.

“You didn’t let me die.” Babe found himself wheezing out, trying to make it sound like a cool statement, but the way his voice pitched made it sound squeaky and surprised.

“You didn’t let me die. Twice.” Travolta gasped back next to him.

Babe huffed out a laugh and let himself melt into the concrete. A hand appeared in the sky again, held out in a peaceful gesture.

“Bill.” Travolta offered.

Babe took his hand, “Babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts  
> 1\. This is pretty short. I felt guilty about not posting in such a long time and the big chapter I was working on felt like it could be split in two so here we are  
> 2\. yeah  
> 3\. I watched Fight Club like a couple days ago and low and behold there was a baby Webster running around and blowing shit up so I think there definitely needs to be a Fight Club AU sometime in the future with like a disgruntled lieb/tyler durden and like Web being attracted to his artful self destruction or something like that idk  
> 4\. The next chapter should be actually soon because I have most of it written but i suck at updating frequently so who knows  
> 5\. Happy almost Independence Day to everyone who celebrates it! If you live in an area where you can set off fire works I'm super jealous. Be safe and stuff


	6. Here's a Little Story I Got To Tell About Three Bad Brothers You Know So Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The next chapter should be up actually soon"  
> lmao @ me  
> The title is from Paul Revere by The Beastie Boys  
> I guess warning for a kinda detailed description of flesh wounds.

When Babe had first broken into the apartment, he’d been dizzy with adrenaline and ended up on his hands and knees, dripping sweat and blood onto the carpet. Now, Bill stood at the threshold, eying Babe’s drip stain with a wary stare and questioning him with his eyebrows. Babe huffed and gave a vague gesture to his face. The only response he got was a snicker before Bill rolled into the apartment with Double-0 Seven ease. Babe watched on as he swung his head this way and that, scoping out the space despite Babe’s assurances that it was safe. At some sort of complicated hand signal, Babe took the fifty-fifty chance and crept into the apartment after Bill.

It was only after he’d poked his head out the door and seen the barricade on the stairs that Bill seemed satisfied and settled in on the dingy carpet. 

“Alright, empty ya pack, I needa see what we got.” Bill commanded, unzipping and emptying out his bag. He’d already pulled out a red rain jacket, a pocketknife, and a half empty jug of water when _they_ came out. Babe’s stomach sent an aggressive message to his brain to steal them. The labels were faded and the metal was scratched up and dented but Babe knew cans of beans when he saw them and Bill had just pulled _three_ of them out of his bag. 

“I got a present for ya.” Bill said, interrupting Babe’s daydream about grabbing the beans and making a run for it, with a wave of a plastic prescription bottle, “It’s penicillin. I swiped it from a nice old lady who tried to rip my arm off.”

Bill mistook Babe’s daydreaming for hesitation and sighed, “Ya face is fucked up, kid. A good cleaning might not be enough.”

Forced to abandon his bean dreams, Babe scowled at Bill but grabbed the orange bottle in exchange for his embarrassingly empty bag. He wasn’t even sure what he had in there, he’d just taken what the town had given him, shoved it in his bag, and got in the car. Judging by the look on Bill’s face as he dug through his backpack, it wasn’t much.

“How were you plannin’ on surviving? You got what, no food, a little water and…” He whistled, “What do we have here?” Bill snatched up the picture that Babe had carefully tucked into the small pocket of the backpack before Babe could make a lunge for it.

Bill’s eyebrows rose, “Damn Babe-“

“Fuck off Bill-“ Babe hissed, trying to grab the picture again.

“I ain’t sayin’ anythin’.” Bill ducked away from Babe and his eyes flickered up from the picture to pin him with a stare, “But you know this kinda nostalgic shit gets you killed, right?”

“Nothing nostalgic about it.” Babe said, finally swiping the photo from Bill’s hands. There must have been something final in his tone because Bill dropped the subject with a wary glance and returned to digging through Babe’s meager belongings. Babe stared him down for a moment before sliding his gaze the photo. He got stuck on Doris’ smile as he carefully placed the picture down on the dusty coffee table.

“Shit, those ain’t double A batteries are they?” Bill asked, once again dragging Babe away from his daydreams. He held up the baggie like it was a holy artifact before he plucked one out and examined the side, “Oh hell yes. I’m taking some.”

Babe hadn’t even known about the batteries. Even when he’d searched through his bag in hopes of finding something edible, everything had registered as ‘not food’ and therefor not important at all. But Bill obviously thought different if the gleeful smile was anything to go by.

“You can have all of them if you give me one of those cans.” Babe rushed out before he could even think it over, nodding toward the beans. Batteries were nothing to him. He’d cut off his right hand for a shot at those beans. The memory of the sweet, starchy taste already had him salivating. He’d drink the fucking juice too.

Bill’s fingers hesitated over the open baggie. Babe could see him taking stock of his three bean cans and measuring them against the weight of the batteries in his hand. He sighed, “Knock yourself out, kid,” and handed him a pocket knife.

Babe’s hand shot out to the can closest to him and punctured it with gusto. It hissed in protest, spraying precious droplets of bean juice at him. He worked the knife in a circle around the lip of the can, agitating the cuts on his hands again with his fervor. He only made it halfway around the can when he gave up and bent the lid back, greedily bringing it up to his lips. Pinto beans had never been his favorite but right now they could’ve been a lavish dinner from one of those five star restaurants in the rich part of town. The taste invaded his mouth and overpowered that awful flavor of nothing that had crept up his throat and settled on his tongue after going too long with out a meal. He only pulled the can away when his mouth was too full to fit anything else. He locked eyes with Bill, who held his gaze for a second before chuckling and shaking his head.

Babe chewed through his mouthful of beans, “Screw you, laughing at the starving kid? Real nice Bill.”

“If you could see yourself, you’d be laughing too.” Bill said, miming Babe’s food shoveling with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. Babe maturely chose to stick his tongue out at Bill as he returned to messing with the walkie-talkie. 

“So what’s the deal with the double A’s?” Babe asked around another mouthful of beans.

“Winters was tellin’ me that we could use them in a pinch if the batteries in this,” he shook the walkie-talkie, “went to shit, which mine did. These babies might just save our sorry asses.”

“Whose Winters? He one of your people?” Babe questioned, pausing his siege of the bean can. He couldn’t ignore the spark of hope that they were _the_ people in Philly. That his family might be with them, living under the protection of crazy assholes like Bill who knew exactly how to survive in this world. 

The walkie-talkie gave a low beep as Bill slid the batteries into place. He waved Babe’s question off and crossed himself briefly before speaking into the radio, “Wild Bill, calling in from Philadelphia. Does anyone copy? I repeat, Wild Bill, calling in from Philadelphia.”

The radio fuzzed with feedback but otherwise remained silent.

“Damn it,” Bill grumbled, clipping the radio onto his belt, “We got a Doc in our company. Woulda been real nice to have a walkthrough before I dive in here, “ Bill explained, turning to his bag again, “But you’re like the goddamn goldmine of batteries, we’ll leave it on for a while just incase anyone sends a signal out.” 

Babe just nodded and turned back to his beans. He watched as Bill rifled through his seemingly bottomless bag, pulling out a slapped together first aid kit and-

“Is that vodka in a _plastic_ bottle?” Babe gasped, simultaneously trying to keep the beans in his mouth and convey his utter disgust.

“What? Oh this? Scared of a little Smirnoff, Babe?” Bill taunted, unscrewing the bottle of toxic fumes and raising it to his lips.

Babe winced and Bill cackled, “Jesus you should see the look on your face! You’re crazy if you think I’m drinking this piss. If it singes ya eyebrows off with the smell,” Bill rolled to his feet, “I figure it’s gotta be pretty good at killin’ those micro-whateva the fucks that like to live in cuts.” He ducked into the kitchen. Babe could hear him fucking around with the cupboards and swearing until he finally emerged with a couple of dishrags, “Don’t look so sketched out Babe, I asked the Doc about it before I started haulin’ this shit around with me. Now get ya ass ova here so I can fix ya face.”

Babe knew jack shit about science. If their Doc said it was alright, who was he to question it?  
“Think you can get my hands first?” Babe asked, holding out his bloody palms, trying to keep his face as far from Bill’s bottle as possible.

“Can’t avoid it foreva.” Bill scolded, but examined Babe’s hands all the same, “Let’s go to the bathroom, I don’t want this room stinkin’ like cheap vodka while we’re trying to sleep.” 

That was something Babe could definitely agree with. He put his beans down just as Bill grabbed him by the wrists and ushered him into the bathroom. Babe really should have seen it for the set up that it was. As soon as they made it into the bathroom, Bill grabbed Babe by the hair that curled around his ears at the nape of his neck. Babe tried to resist, slamming his slippery hands against the mirror and cursing. He should’ve known Bill would wait until he was comfortable, when his guard was down and he’d be easy to kill. With a mirror too, like some sort of sadistic, ‘make you watch while I bash your face in’ type of shit.

Bill’s bewildered eyes popped up over his shoulder, “Jesus, kid! I’m not trying to kill you! I want you to look at your face and understand what kinda shit you got going on here so you actually take care of yourself next time.”

Babe hesitated long enough for Bill to snort and unwind his hands from Babe’s hair and hold them up in surrender. He relented his strong arm against the mirror, letting his hands slip down the glass. His stomach dropped. It was dim in the bathroom, sure, but not dark enough that he couldn’t see. Because there he was, framed by bloody handprints, looking like a chewed up Kraut. Babe really couldn’t blame Bill for thinking he was dead. There wasn’t an inch of him that had been spared from a healthy amount of blood splatter. His hair, just long enough to be considered unruly, was slicked up and stiff in places that had come in contact with his face. Blood from his cuts had spilled down his skin, crusting on his cheeks and in between his broken skin, making his pallid complexion stand out in stark contrast. The front of his grey sweatshirt had a rusty brown stain ringing around the neck. The cuts themselves looked stiff and swollen and straight up infected. Babe didn’t have to touch them to know. The aching in his face every time he moved told him that much. There was one that ran up from underneath his jaw to his lip, split apart like a dry, cracked canyon that lead up to a scrape on his cheek. Another bisected his eyebrow, causing swelling around the eye.

But the real pièce de résistance was the gash on his forehead. The blood in the wound was black and hardened, striking against the yellowed skin that had puffed up around the opening. It was almost as if someone had stuck their fingers in his head in order to move all the flesh off to one side. The worst part was revealed when Bill flicked on his lighter and held it in front of Babe and the wound sparkled against the flame. Closer inspection found tiny shards of glass still embedded in his skin.

Where Bill looked like some psycho, greaser axe murderer with his jacket and his eyebrows, Babe looked like a fucking modern, pre-sewn up Frankenstein’s monster. Bill looked like someone you wanted on your side. Babe looked like something you would have to kill in order to get away from them.

“Shit.” He whispered, reaching out a bloody finger to touch his reflection.

“Shit’s right buddy, you better start takin’ care of yourself if you’ve got people.” Bill started, manhandling Babe to the tub so he could get at his hands, “They need you to be there for them. Not running around and dying because you were too fuckin’ stupid to clean your cuts. Now, gimmie ya hands. This is gonna sting.”

And it did sting. A lot. Babe hissed through his teeth as the spirit washed over his hands, picking up the blood and grime and carrying it down to the tub. Bill ignored him and set about patting the scrapes down with a pilfered dishrag. When most of the blood had been cleared away, he grabbed his lighter from the sink and used it to study Babe’s hand. The flame revealed an expanse of torn up skin. His palms were thrashed from when he’d fallen on his ass and the blisters from his bat had all burst, leaving peeling skin in their wake. Babe wanted to say something, but his reaction to Bill forcing him to look had chased the easy banter away and left something tense in its wake. 

“You still got some gravel n’ shit in here, I’m just gonna...” Bill went for it, digging out the dirt before rinsing with more alcohol. If Babe’s hands hadn’t already begun to numb from the alcohol and all the abuse they’d taken that day, he was sure he’d be screaming. Bill moved the lighter and the rag towards his face. After just one press of the cloth, Babe recoiled. He wasn’t sure if it was from the smell or promise of stinging pain. Bill made a frustrated sound and he abandoned the lighter to hold Babe’s head still. With out the lighter, the shadows returned to the room. Bill swore again and left the room, taking the awkward silence with him. 

Babe wanted to apologize for being a fucking spazz but before he even opened his mouth, Bill started breaking things in the apartment. He sat in silence until Bill came back into the bathroom with a wad of papers and broken up pieces of the wooden chairs from the kitchen. 

“Look, Bill-“ Babe began as Bill dumped his items into the sink.

“Kid, it’s cool.” Bill said as he organized the broken wood, “I shouldn’t have grabbed ya like that. I forgot you ain’t one o’ my guys.” He took his lighter to the paper and stuffed it under the teepee of wood, “I am offended that you thought I’d kill ya after I fed ya. My ma raised me betta than that. ‘Once you eat with us, you’re one of us’.” He recited.

“Well aren’t you the gentleman.” Babe teased as the fire took to the wood and threw a warm glow against the dull plaster of the bathroom.

“Damn straight.” Bill popped open the vent, “Now if we’re done with talkin’ bout our feelings, I’d like to work on the real problem,” He said as he straddled the lip of the tub, settling in across from Babe, “which is your face.”

Babe gave a quick ‘fuck you’ but nodded all the same. At Babe’s consent, Bill doused another strip of towel in vodka, “Ain’t gonna lie, if you thought ya hands were bad, this is gonna hurt like a sonnuva bitch,” Bill examined Babe’s face up close, “ya got some nasty shit goin’ on here.”

“Great,” Babe gritted his teeth, “Hows about you tell me about your group so I don’t have to focus on getting the gunk scraped out of my face.” 

“I can do that.” Bill murmured, wiping down Babe’s face with the towel. The smoke had covered the smell of shitty alcohol until now, but it was inescapable at this point and Babe’s stomach rolled in response. 

Bill seemed completely unfazed by the smell and Babe was totally impressed (and maybe a little terrified), “The group really starts and ends with Winters. He’s our C.O.”

“What’s a C.O?” Babe managed through his sealed teeth.

Bill pinned him with a look, “Military speak for leader.”

“You’re with the military?” Babe huffed out as Bill peeled the hair away from the cut on his forehead and slicked it back.

“You’re not?”

“I’m not. Fuck that _burns_ ,” Babe clenched his teeth even harder against the press of rough cloth against the gash, “Didn’t take you for a military man.”

Bill blotted the towel against Babe’s forehead before making him turn towards the fire so he could see the glitter of the glass shards, “Not before all this, I wasn’t. Just ya typical blue-collar typa guy. I was assigned to a group from the military base we ended up at. I dunno where you ended up but we were in the South. Lotta political bullshit in the early days like you wouldn’t believe. Specially down there,” Bill’s fingers worked roughly over the wound, wiggling a piece of glass until it came free with a wet sucking sound. Babe totally wasn’t crying. Bill dangled the shard in Babe’s face before diving back in, “They made a lot of us ‘non-essentials’ head up to the military. They were losin’ people like crazy and the towns had too many to keep track of. Worked out this nasty system where all the extras and undesirables got sent out on these missions to help out overrun areas. Made it seem like some top grade, Uncle Sam, World War Two ‘We need YOU’ typa bullshit.” He gave Babe’s forehead another once over before moving down to the cut bisecting Babe’s eyebrow, “Nothing more than glorified suicide missions to keep the number of guys like you an’ me with ‘no applicable skills’ down and draw the zekes out and away from the towns.”

Babe shuddered. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the wild shit that happened in the beginning. The bodies lining the parking lot from the early days still popped up in his dreams sometimes, even though it’d been months and he’d come face to face much worse since. 

Babe’s eyes were squeezed shut against the sting as Bill continued, “That’s what I was doin’ when I ran into Winters. He kinda adopted me and my buddies. We were all on the ground when Baton Rogue went to shit.” Bill paused here and flicked his eyes up like he was expecting some kind of reaction. Babe floundered over an appropriate response before giving a noncommittal hum. Bill seemed satisfied with it because he kept talking, “Anyway, my group got sent to the city on a supply run only to wake up and find the city in flames. We were told to ‘Stay and Defend’.” Bill scoffed, gently dabbing Babe’s brow, “More like stay and die. We were losin’ people left and right. Couldn’t decide where to go or what to do now that we had a job other than just tryina survive. We couldn’t even find a command center. Just me an’ Hall and a few others at the end and even then…” He trailed off, re-soaking the rag, “But then Winters comes running up the street, takes one look at our attempted military formation and says ‘on me, we’re on a rescue mission.’ And shit, we followed him. We’d lost our shitty leader, no one knew where he went and like I said, we were all runnin’ around with our heads cut off. And all of a sudden we get Winters. Fuckin’ Godsend.”

He finished up with Babe’s eyebrow and moved down to the gash on his cheek, “Turns out he was sent there to find some rich politician’s son. I wasn’t about it at first. I didn’t wanna follow no beaurocratic mule from the government that had gotten us into this mess. Wasn’t too impressed with Winters himself eitha. I was about ready to get the fuck outta there when one of our guys noticed his tags.”

“His tags?” Babe managed as Bill dug through his cheek.

“Yeah, in the early days if you were part of a base, the name of it was sewn on to literally everything you owned. And Winters had some hodunk town in Georgia. One of our guys grilled him about it. We figured he’d been driven in like the rest of us, on a stupid mission to get him out of the way. And he just says, ‘no, I walked’ and kept moving. Fucker _walked_ through a damn Dead Zone to get there.”

“Dead zone?” Babe was so out of depth with all this apparent post apocalyptic culture.

“Exactly like it sounds. There are patches of ‘em everywhere and there’s one that stretches all the way from Georgia to Louisiana. Little pockets of civ zones and shit, in a sea of zekes. And that’s what he just ‘walked’ through.” Bill shook his head and laughed, “No easy shit. We figured he’d been sent on a suicide mission same as us, and if he could make it through a Dead Zone and come out clean, he was our best shot. Lot of our guys were green, like sure they were in the apocalypse, but never _in_ the apocalypse, you know?”

Babe knew better than Bill probably wanted him to. He just swallowed and nodded. 

Bill forced Babe’s cheek to the side and continued to scrutinize the ruined skin for bits of glass, “So we followed him. All the way to this bar. I’ll never forget how this place looked. The windows were shattered, half the place was on fire, and there were bodies strewn across the floor. And then there were these two guys! Just sitting at the bar! Like it was a normal fuckin’ night! They were passin’ a bottle of J.D back and forth, not even looking at the street, or the fire, or the goddamn bodies.” Bill laughed again, “Fuckin’ incredible. Anyways, Winters looks at these two guys and says ‘Lewis Nixon, we’re here to get you home.’ Like he knew he was lookin’ for an alcoholic in Baton Rogue.” Bill patted his cheek with a dry towel, dotting the cloth with blood before diving back in with the alcohol, “The guy, Nixon, doesn’t even look up, he just takes another pull from the bottle and spews some poetic, smart guy bullshit. And Winters gets this look on his face, like that’s how he knew it was Nixon and walks up to these dudes and says some stuff real quietly. I couldn’t tell what they were talkin’ about. But it all ends with Nixon sayin’ ‘Well shit, okay’ and getting up.”

“This guy was so wasted I’m surprised he could even stand. But he ended up savin’ our asses. He musta spent years walkin’ the city blind drunk for him to be able to get us through that shit with out a single one of us bitin’ the dust. And his buddy, this short as shit guy, was hell on wheels. I’ve never seen someone that drunk do anything half as impressive as that guy did with his knife. It was some biblical shit, runnin’ into those three. You’d think they’d been workin’ together for years with the way they lead us.” Bill tilted Babe’s head up and ducked down to examine the split that ran from his lip to under his chin and pressing the rag against the split skin, “We ended up at a command center miles out from the city with a stolen car. Winters and Nixon burst into this place like they own it, blood soaked and everything, lookin’ real impressive. They demand to see whoever’s in charge. Me and my buddies are just standin’ in this lobby, we can hear some yellin’ but nothin’ that sounds like Winters or Nix. The short guy, Harry, he’s throwin’ up in the corner and moanin’ about this girl named Kitty. Just as people are starting to look at him like they might just decide to take him out back and shoot ‘im just incase, Winters and Nix come back out, looking satisfied as shit. But that’s not the great part! Trailin’ after them is my old C.O! The one we’d ‘lost’ in the city. Turns out he’s a fuckin’ chicken shit and ran his ass outta Baton Rogue in the chaos. Guess he turned up at the base sayin’ his team got eaten or somethin’.” Bill raised his eyebrows and exhaled, “Anyway, we got stuck with that loser again. And he acted like nothin’ happened! It was incredible. If anything he was more of a dick than he was before like he was mad we’d lived.”

Bill pulled the skin apart and went to town with a twisted up a corner of the rag, “Then we get sent on all these rescue missions up and down Louisiana. The state had been clear for a little bit, but infestations had started croppin’ up all over. Our ‘missions’ just turned into a slew of running and hidin’. We did manage to save a few people, that’s how we got most of our guys.” 

Babe yelped as Bill’s hand slipped up to his lip, “Sorry, sorry,” Bill apologized, actually looking guilty for a moment before coming in again, “Eventually our original C.O got himself hurt too bad to keep movin’ with us. It was like Christmas. Winters personally dumped him at the next base we came across. The C.O was the only one who was a stickler about keepin’ in contact with the military so we pretty much went rogue after that. There’s only so many times you can send a group out on ‘missions’ and get them cornered by zekes at every turn before they start to think you’re tryina get them killed.”

“Is that what you thought?” Babe asked as Bill set the rag down.

“After the initial suicide missions and us ending up with Winters, I just thought the whole area was going to shit, like a second wave of infection. But after a while we met up with other groups that had never really seen any action until then. But we weren’t green anymore. We were fuckin’ good at what we did so what good would it do to get us killed? Don’t matter though. Like I said, after that first C.O was gone, we high tailed it up here. Even Winters, whose like a damn Saint was just fine with ditchin’ the political shit. Now we just check in with towns and civs and make sure everything’s okay. We usually try to get the ones that are close together in contact so they don’t feel completely isolated. It does wonders for the “psyche of the people” apparently. At least, that’s what Nix says. I’m just glad we’re not takin’ direct orders from the big guys anymore. Winters is serious about helpin’ people but he actual cares about us, you know? He goes out in the field with us an’ everythin’.”

“And that’s that. I got separated from the group when we were comin’ up the interstate a few days ago. Zekes bein’ zekes. The usual. Radio fuckin’ quit on me after a few hours, so I’ve been makin’ my way through the suburbs,” Bill said, grabbing Babe’s face and re-examining the cuts, “Alright, they look good. Imma little concerned about this one on ya forehead. I’m gonna radio in one more time and see if we get anything before I finish up.” Bill fiddled with the machine before calling in again. The radio fuzzed with feedback but otherwise remained silent. 

“Well,” Bill turned back to Babe with a grin, looking sinister in the firelight, “I aint too bad at stitchin up cuts if I do say so myself-“

“Stitchin’?” Babe gaped, “We didn’t talk about stitchin’-”

A grainy voice interrupted Babe’s protest, bursting through the radio static, “Easy Company responding to Wild Bill. Wild Bill, do you copy?” 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, thank fuck,” Bill practically dove for the radio, “This is Wild Bill responding to Easy Company. Thought I’d lost you guys.”

“Thought we’d lost you too.” The voice responded, relief apparent even through the static. Babe could just make out the muffled victory shouts in the background, “What’s your status?”

“In the South West Suburb.” Bill’s eyes flicked to Babe, “Holed up in an apartment with a wounded rogue. He could be a replacement or a civy, but he ain’t too green.”

Babe stuck his tongue out, pretending like he knew what those things meant. Sure, he wasn’t up to date with the Apocalyptic terminology but he could tell by Bill’s tone that they weren’t great and Babe needed to seem as useful as possible if he want to get to this group. If they’d been in the business of helping out communities, he was sure that if there were people in the city, they’d know where to find them.

“Anyway, what’re you doin’ answerin’ the radio, Smokey? Ain’t this Lieb’s job?” Bill said, leaning eagerly toward the radio with a smile.

Even though the group must have been miles away, Babe felt the mood drop instantaneously.

“He’s not with you? We thought when we got separated…” The disappointment invaded the bathroom and Bill’s smile slid off his face.

“I didn’t even see Lieb when that swarm cut us off. I haven’t see any live people until Babe here.” 

The voice on the other end swore, “Well, shit. That ain’t what we were hopin’ for.”

Bill rubbed his chin and stared into the fire, “Well, you know Lieb, He’s a wily lil’ fuck. He’s probably running this shit right now. We’ll keep our eyes peeled.” 

“Yeah…” ‘Smokey’ paused, “Speaking of we. That rogue you got, is he clean?”

“Kid’s fine.” Bill drawled into the speaker, “His face is pretty messed up but-“

“Bill-“ The voice wavered.

“Gordon. He’s _clean_. I’ve seen enough ‘infected’ cuts to know he’s fine. He woulda turned by now anyway.” Babe slapped Bill’s hand away as he prodded at the cut on his chin, “Speakin’ of cuts and infection though, is the Doc around? I need him to walk me through some of this.” 

They were met with silence and for a second Babe was sure he’d gotten them both abandoned before the guy, Gordon, Smokey, whoever the fuck, sighed and responded with the affirmative. 

As Gordon left the radio, a new voice leaked through the fuzz, lazy and drawling, “You still there, Bill and potential health hazard?”

Babe scowled and Bill smirked and mouthed ‘Nixon’ to him before turning to the radio, “Whaddaya need Nix?”

“What? I can’t check in on my favorite Philly kid? My favorite Philly kid I’d thought was dead until a few minutes ago?” Two loud thuds and a sigh resonated through the radio. Babe could just see the owner of the lazy voice relaxing back into his chair and kicking his feet up.

“Nix, as much as that warms my shriveled heart, I know that if y’all are holed up in some house right now, you’d be nice and cozy in some bed if Winters didn’t give you a job.” 

“You wound me.” Nixon sniffed, “But yes, Dick’s on a supply run and got it in his head that I was responsible enough to be left in charge.” 

“I knew it.” Bill said, smirking, “So what do you need, ‘acting Commander’?”

“Be careful, all this power might go to my head,” Nixon drawled through the line, “I’m to do the usual: find out where your sorry ass is, how to get you back, and send you a rescue crew if you need it.”

Bill scoffed, “I was here when shit went down Nix, don’t insult me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Makes my job easy.” The man informed them, sounding way too satisfied, “Here’s what I’m thinking: you get yourselves to 69th Avenue, there’s a nice little cemetery there and we’ll send out a scout to come get you.”

“Really? A fuckin’ cemetery?” Bill asked, finally putting the radio down between them.

“I know, how Romero of us. At least everything that was already dead stays dead. I’m told the cemerery has tactical advantage, but I just like the aesthetic.” Nixon sighed dramatically, “It’s the Philadelphia National Cemetery to be specific. How fast can you get here?”

Bill looked thoughtful, “We’ll leave here in the morning, at sunrise. I can’t say for sure, the zekes are wild up here. We’ll be in radio contact with you.”

“Sounds good,” Nixon was suddenly very loud, like he’d moved closer to the radio, “The Doc’s here. Don’t get yourselves killed on the way back.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.” Bill saluted the radio with a grin.

Babe paled, he’d almost forgot about _why_ they were waiting for the doc to come in.

The radio emitted feedback and settled into a low fuzz before a “ ‘lo Bill” rolled through the static like smooth molasses.

“Hiya Doc, sorry ta bug ya.” Bill said, suddenly all business.

“Dun worry ‘bout it. It’s my turn at the radio anyway. Now tell me ‘bout this infected rogue you’ve pick up.” The connection was shit, but just like with Nix kicking up his feet, Babe swore he could hear the click of a lighter and a deep inhale. His empty pack taunted him from the living room. 

“Fuckin’ Gordon.” Bill rolled his eyes, “He ain’t _infected_ infected, just the regula old penicillin and in need of a good cleanin’ typa infected. Already gave him some meds and cleaned out the cuts best I could. Just need some professional help with stitchin’ the mess up-“

“There’s no way in hell I’m lettin’ you near my face with a needle-“

“Ya betta believe it kid. I ain’t takin’ the chance of you getting’ sprayed in the face with some zeke blood and then boom, I got a big Babe zombie on my hands and you get ta experience the wonders of my axe meetin’ ya brains.”

“Excuse you-“

“I’m not the one who let it get this bad,” Bill scolded, sounding a lot like Babe’s ma when she got pissed at him for being a dumbass, “If you’d fuckin’ taken care of yourself-“

“How bad is it?” The Doc’s voice crackled between them, effectively cutting off the argument.

“He looks like he’s dead.” Bill replied, matter of fact.

The Doc’s silence was judgment enough.

“Doc, c’mon I know my sit, aight? The only kind of dead this kid’s gonna be the kind where he needs a toe tag.”

“Is it still bad?” Babe questioned meekly, wincing as Bill poked around his face.

“What, like it woulda healed in five minutes? The Smirnoff is good but it ain’t that good.” Bill lectured, still channeling Babe’s ma.

Babe’s wounded puppy look must have been better than he remembered because Bill relented at a glance, “It’s ah… it’s oozin’ Babe. This one on ya forehead is freakin’ me out the most.”

Bill dug around in his pile, pulling out a rubber band before gathering Babe’s long hair into a knot at the crown of his head, “But it’s better than I thought.” He turned back to the radio, “I was thinkin’ he had that necrophilia-“

Babe’s mouth dropped open, “I did not put my fuckin’ dick in a zeke, are you _kidding me_?” 

“Necrosis?!” The Doc cut in, the urgency in his voice overriding Babe’s need to defend himself.

“That’s the one!” Bill said, not at all concerned, “But I cleaned it out real nice, all the black shit ended up being blood. But it still doesn’t look good. Should I stitch it up? Or wait for the infection to dry up a little?”

“Christ, next time tell me it’s not necrosis first.” Babe could almost smell the smoke in the Doc’s relieved exhale, “You got something to cover it up with? I’d want to clean it before we seal it up. It could just fester under the skin.”

Bill considered the split skin on Babe’s forehead before giving an affirmative grunt, “Yeah, I cleaned it the best I could but it still looks bad. I think I can find something in the apartment.”

“It’ll scar.” The Doc murmured over the line.

“No shit,” Bill snorted, lumbering up to his feet to search the apartment for more cloth, “He already looks like Frankenstein’s monster, one more scar ain’t gonna change that.

“Fuck off.” Babe hissed at Bill’s back.

“What happened to _‘Fuck you, I’m beautiful’_.” Bill mimicked from the other room.

Babe flushed as the radio emitted something that sounded like a snort of laughter.

“I’m very pretty, I’ll have you know. They don’t call me Babe for nothing,” Babe sniffed defensively, “And I ain’t infected.” He threw in for good measure.

The radio crackled back to life, “I know you ain’t. Bill can sniff out infected people better than anyone.” The Doc murmured, carefully dodging Babe’s fragile ego.

“If he’s the best, why do you keep askin’?” Babe leaned forward to get closer to the radio.

The Doc was deliberately quiet now and hard to hear over the crackle of the fire, “He’s the best but he ain’t got a perfect record. Everyone can be wrong-“

“What are you two gossipin’ about in here?” Bill asked, nudging the door open with his foot and dropping a pile of miscellaneous items on the ground.

“I was just assuring the good doctor here that I’m not infected.” Babe answered, eyeing Bill as he plucked a small plastic box from the pile.

“Oh, he knows you ain’t infected, “Bill said, snapping the box open and plucking a needle out from between the empty spools of thread and inspecting it, “He just likes to worry.”

“Better safe than sorry.” The Doc murmured through the static, “What kinda thread you got?”

Bill flicked his lighter on and held the needle over it, avoiding Babe’s stare, “…dental floss.”

Babe let out a sharp bark of laughter, “You are not putting floss in my _face_.”

“Doc, back me up here.” Bill threw at the radio, already cutting the floss and stringing it through the needle.

Babe stared anxiously at the walkie-talkie. The doc seemed like a sensible kind of guy. The kind of guy that definitely, would not, under any circumstance, clear Bill to sew up his face with fucking _dental floss_.

“He’s puttin’ dental floss in your face.”

Babe wanted to argue with the disembodied voice of the doctor, but for the first time, he could hear a lightness in the doc’s tone. So he just sighed and tilted his head up.

Bill grinned down at him, needle and ‘thread’ in one and hand and a vodka soaked cloth in the other, backlit by the fire to look like something out of Babe’s childhood nightmares, “Atta boy Babe! Any advice for the kid, Doc?”

“Keep your head still, don’t wanna give you crooked stitches and ruin that nick-name.” And like the smoke, Babe could almost see the smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eugene is finally (sort of) here!
> 
> Bill sure can Talk A Lot. Let me know if he ever gets too pirate-y or hard to read for you guys. I know physically writing accents doesn't always translate well so yeah
> 
> As always, a huge thanks to everyone who read, comments, and leaves kudos. You guys mean the world to me and literally without fail always leave me smiling and its great and I love every single one of you that takes time out of your day to read my shitty words.


	7. Bang Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: an up-close description of a sort of dead person. 
> 
> This is a fan-work based entirely off of the actor's portrayals in the HBO mini-series Band Of Brothers; no disrespect to the real men of Easy Company. I own nothing.

Getting sewn up by dental floss was just as bad as Babe had imagined. The pull and tug against his irritated skin nearly had him reaching for the vodka. Not even the Doc’s smooth voice could keep him distracted. But Bill was nothing if not efficient. His stitches were hardly straight but Babe was just glad the needle was out of his face.

“This,” Bill said, turning Babe’s head this way and that, “is a work of modern art. I think its time for you to retire Doc.”

“I’ve been waiting months to hear that.”

“Now you can get yourself a nice little shack down in the Bahamas. Get some sun on that pasty ass of yours.”

The Doc huffed out something that sounded like a laugh but he was back to business before Babe could appreciate it. “You bringing that rogue back with you?”

“Might as well. I don’t think he has anywhere better to be.”

Babe really didn’t. He sure as shit couldn’t make it back to the town on his own and there were people in the city. Even though he desperately wanted to get back to Doris, he needed to see the Philly for himself. 

The Doc hummed. “Good. I’d wanna check his cuts.”

Bill wiped the sutures down one last time with a piece of alcohol soaked cloth.

“I think he’s good to go.”

“Alright. Get yoselves back here in one piece an’ keep those cuts covered and dry.”

“Will do, Doc.” Babe said.

The sounds from the radio fizzled out until there was only feedback. The room felt ten times smaller. Even though the Doc hadn’t said much, he made Babe feel like they were connected to something. Something big and safe. Now, it was like they were on a tiny island, stranded and alone.

“Alright Babe. We got shit to do.” Bill said, warming his hands by the fire, “I’ve been eyeballin’ that store across the street for days.”

“Forget about it.” Babe said, “There’s a very large, very _undead_ employee that still works there.”

“Well,” Bill said, moving out to the living room and packing up his bag, “I have a plan. And it’s a damn good one, so finish those beans and rest up. We’re going down in a few hours.”

oOo

Babe hated Bill. 

Bill’s plans were awful.

Not because they had to free climb down from the balcony. Not because there were still two Babe-and-Bill hungry Krauts snapping their teeth at them down on the street. And not because Babe’s pants now had a nice splatter pattern of brains, even though Babe could’ve done without the extra color.

It was because there was a bait requirement. And apparently Bill was ‘real good with pickin’ locks’, which was better than what Babe could offer. So he got stuck with distracting Steve from Bill and keeping him from calling every Kraut on the block to the store. While Babe distracted the zeke, Bill would take Steve out once he got a back door open and they would have free reign over the store. Which meant _water_ and _food_ and _cigarettes_ and maybe some candy he could bring back for Doris.

But as much as Babe hated Bill, he hated Fucking Steve more. Because as much as Fucking Steve liked pounding on windows, he liked breaking them more. Babe was standing there, checking his sewn up reflection in the spider-webbed glass of the door when it happened. He had about two seconds to register that Fucking Steve was rushing the door before the glass peeled off in one large sheet to land with a smack. He couldn’t even react as a leathery hand shot out and yanked him into the store by his hair. 

Babe’s head smacked against the doorframe and he could _feel_ the floss ripping out of his face. 

So much for modern art. 

But then he was face to noseless face with Fucking Steve and it really didn’t matter anymore because _yikes_. This was some abstract, horror movie inspired Picasso. A shriveled eye dangling out the socket and swung over the hole where his nose should’ve been. The entirety of his upper lip and left cheek were gone, like someone had ripped it off with their teeth. The edges of skin were dried and blackened, moving in time with the exposed tendons as he snapped his way closer to Babe’s neck.

It said a lot that the spike of fear and adrenaline running through his body was familiar. Almost comforting. Babe let it take over and got a foot up before Steve’s rancid breath got too close to his vulnerable neck and kicked off. 

He hit the floor hard, the side of his head burning and his eye stinging. Steve was already on the move, with a handful of Babe’s red hair poking out between his leathery fingers. Babe kicked out again, this time at Steve’s knees, sending the massive zeke crashing to the ground. He tried to get to his feet as Steve fell, but the zeke was fast. Babe was yanked back by the foot, smacking his head. Babe could feel the stitches bisecting his brow burst apart. He stared down a trail of his own blood that he left behind as Steve dragged him back. 

“Motherfucker, I am _sick_ of you.” He twisted around and planted the foot Steve hadn’t grabbed against the rotting cheek and shoved. His shoe slipped against the skin as it ripped off Steve’s face.

“ _Shit_.”

He was on his stomach now, completely in the open, with one leg in the air and the other in Fucking Steve’s meaty grasp. He twisted his body, pulling his legs up toward his chest, dragging Steve with him, and stomped down on the other cheek.

A sick snap filled the air as his foot made contact and followed through. Steve immediately went limp and collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. Everything was still except for his head, which was still actively thrashing, trying to get at Babe. Babe frantically scrambled backward from the clicking of Steve’s teeth until his back hit a shelf in the corner. There was no more space he could put between him and the zeke. 

He took a second to breathe. His head thrummed from where it smacked on the ground, the ringing in his ears coming and going at sharp intervals. Blood trickled down from his brow, obscuring his vision and stinging his eyes. At this rate, he’d be lucky if his brain ever recovered from the amount of neurons he’d lost from smacking his head on every hard surface he’d come across since the beginning of the apocalypse.

“What in the fuck-“ 

There was Bill, skidding around the corner.

“You had _one fuckin’ job_ Babe!”

Babe’s head lulled back so he could see Bill. “I got ‘im.” He slurred, gesturing with his foot to Steve.

“Can’t even finish the fuckin’ job-” Bill brought his axe down, splitting Steve’s head.  
“Congratu-fuckin-lations, I guess. But did you have to ring the goddamn dinner bell when you did it?! We’re fuckin’ sitting ducks now!”

“What the fuck‘re you talkin’ about.” Babe asked, spitting out the blood that had run into his mouth.

“Gee, I dunno, maybe the _alarm_ that’s going off, Babe?! We’re gonna have every zeke in Philly crawling through the door, lookin’ for a fuckin’ snack. What the hell-“

Babe tuned out for a moment as Bill ranted on. His eyebrow stung and the pounding in his head was like an actual sound.

Wait.

Oh.

It _was_ an actual, tangible sound. Outside of his head. That was happening in reality, ringing high and loud at a sharp frequency. Which really didn’t make sense because ‘end of the world’ pretty much equaled no electricity, but somehow, in some twisted way, the alarm was going off. Which, if Babe was being honest, was pretty much par for the fucking course with how his apocalypse had been going so far. Fucking Steve probably kept the thing running with pure spite.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, fucking _oh_ Babe! What the hell did you do? Scratch that, what the hell are _we_ gonna do?”

Babe tried to get to his feet so they could get the fuck out of there. He tried to use the shelf behind him to help himself up but the metal slid under his weight.

“Wait wait wait,” Bill said, reaching over Babe’s head to steady the shelf, “I have an idea.”

Babe was ready to go but Bill was surveying the store and muttering to himself. As much as Babe wanted to run, Bill was doing that thing with his jaw, a clench, unclench, clench, that he did when he thought he had a really good idea. Which, track record, he was two for two with bad ideas, but Babe didn’t have anything better to offer than run.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan. Help me move this first shelf to block the door. Then you’re going to take these bags.” He waved a box of heavy duty garbage bags in Babe’s face. “And fill it with food, water, medicine, alcohol, and whatever else fits.”

Babe struggled to his feet and helped Bill shove the shelf. They smooshed what was left of Steve’s body out of the door. Babe wasn’t above a self-satisfied smirk at that. The shelf wouldn’t do much if any zealous zekes came by looking for a meal, but it would give them time. Time to do what, Babe wasn’t exactly clear on. But Bill had a manic gleam in his eye that made Babe nervous.

“Alright, okay,” Bill said, wiping his hands on his jeans and looking like a kid in a candy shop, “I’m thinking we got about five minutes before this goes to shit. Grab a six pack and more of these.” 

He shoved a yellow tin from the shelf into Babe’s chest before grabbing a few for himself and disappearing off into the store. Babe looked down at the can. 

There, under a flame decal, were the words ‘Lighter Fluid’.

oOo

The store wasn’t as well stocked as Babe had initially dreamed. The aisles were littered with discarded chip bags and soda cans. Babe sneered as he tried to navigate around the mess. Fucking Steve obviously hadn’t put a lot of forethought into conserving his goldmine of food with the way he had left everything half finished and rotting. What a fucking dick. Babe could totally imagine a just-bitten Steve tearing his way through the food in an “if I can’t have it, no one can!” way.

Babe did manage to salvage a few bag of Lays and a couple of canned goods. He really hit the jackpot with the personal hygiene aisle. He nearly fell to his knees when he saw the rainbow of dental supplies, deodorants, and travel soaps lining the rows. He’d been steadfastly ignoring the grime, blood, and sweat that had been building up on his body but the mere presence of soap had him itching to peel his off his stiff clothes and go to town.

It was a few minutes later, after Babe had found a carton (a full catron!) of smokes, _two_ huge jugs of water, a six-pack, and some Jack Daniels when he heard the chorus of groaning coming from the street. He called out to Bill, who was hacking away at the pipes running along the ceiling.

Bill swore, “C’mon Babe, we gotta go!”

The zekes on the street slapped their hands against the glass and pushed on the shelves blocking the door. Bill jumped over Steve’s trash and shoved his way into the backroom, pulling Babe along with him. Before Babe could get close to the industrial door that lead out the back, he was yanked back by his hood and onto his ass.

“Don’t touch that door.”

As if on cue, the door rattled and Babe could hear the slap of flesh against the metal.

“Shit!” Babe nearly squeaked and looked up at Bill from his prone spot on the floor. “How the fuck are we supposed to leave? We shoulda gotten outta here when the alarm went off!”

“Calm ya tits Babe.” Bill jerked his head upward to a metal panel on the ceiling. “We’re goin’ up.”

oOo

 

“So,” Babe began, digging into his bag of Barbeque chips, “What the fuck were you doin’ in there?”

They were situated on a flat roof. After an anti-climactic escape, save for the part where they had house hopped and Babe almost fell to his death. Babe couldn’t bring himself to argue when Bill pulled them to a stop and settled down three houses from the store. The street below was a maze of overturned cars and krauts that had come out from their hiding spots to check out the noise. His nerves were shot to hell but he couldn’t mentally keep up the state of constant panic anymore. If Bill was calm, Babe figured he might as well chill out too.

Bill had made disappointed noises when he got a good luck at Babe’s re-chewed up face and tossed him the bottle of vodka and a tacky tourist shirt. He settled against the chimney with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He shrugged. “Just a lil’ surprise I cooked up. No one tries to corner Ol’ Guarnere and gets away with it.”

Babe almost choked on his chips. “Did you say Guarnere?”

“Yeah?” Bill’s forehead was wrinkling up again in a way that Babe was starting to recognize as a precursor to Offended Bill. “What of it?”

Babe raised his barbeque-glazed fingers up in surrender. He’d known Bill was a Philly kid, he just didn’t know he was one of _those_ Philly kids. The Guarnere’s were practically legendary. One of the old families with ten kids and counting. Everyone knew them. He’d even met their ma. The woman was a force of nature. It was no wonder where Bill got his mouth from. Hell, he’d even been invited over to their house for dinner after church. He’d begged off to go to a movie or something stupid. He tried to imagine this hardened survivor in a button up, heading to church on a Sunday, hair combed and fussed over by his ma. Babe patted the fresh bald spot on his head and frowned, grasping for the memory of his mother’s fingers running through his hair.

“So.” He said, blocking off that train of through before it took hold. “That Front Street robbery?”

“Are you kidding me?” Bill asked, affronted, “That was those dumbasses from South Philly High.”

Babe felt the old rivalry boil up in an instant. 

“Fuck off! Just cuz we didn’t go to some fancy Catholic School doesn’t mean-”

“Ah ha!” Bill pointed at Babe, “I knew it! What are you? A Smith? Jones, Jackson? I know you ain’t a Julian, they only had one-”

“Heffron.” Babe said, “I’m a Heffron.”

Bill looked him over. “Damn, shoulda guessed that. You got that red-hair, up-to-no-good look about ya.”

Babe pouted and rubbed at his fresh bald spot.

oOo

Babe jerked awake, cold and stiff from sleeping on the roof.

He could almost appreciate the cool, crisp air and the pink of dawn against the clouds. But Fucking Steve’s fucking alarm was still going. It was a wonky, distorted thing now as the battery or generator or whatever gave it power started to give out. It was joined by the chorus of what had to be a shit ton of zekes fighting their way into the store.

Babe rubbed at his eyes and pulled himself into a sitting position to look over the side of the roof.

There was a goddamn sea of zekes, writhing and moaning in the early. His skin prickled at the sheer number of bodies filling the street. He sighed and gingerly messaged his forehead, careful to stay away from his cut. He turned to Bill, huddled up against the chimney, hands and chin tucked deep into his jacket. Babe snorted. Without his mouth to give him two extra feet of intimidation, Bill looked small and peaceful. Almost as if he could sense someone questioning his authority, he buried his nose deeper into the leather and opened his eyes to glare at the morning.

“Fucking hell.” He hissed into the jacket. “That thing’s still going?”

“There’s a fuck ton of krauts too.” Babe offered up for lack of anything better to say. “Should we-”

“No, no sh.” Bill tried to block Babe’s word with one hand while reaching for his cigarettes with the other, “Give me five fuckin’ minutes to enjoy this cigarette before I have to deal with this bullshit.”

Bill settled next to him, sucking down his cigarette in record time. 

“You play baseball?” He asked out of the blue, eyes on the street.

“Yeah.” Babe responded. He just went with it, it was too exhausting to question everything Bill said. It was better for his health. 

“How was your arm?”

“I was an outfielder?” Babe offered.

Bill hummed, “Good enough.”

oOo

For the second time in a 24-hour period, Babe was participating in one of Bill’s schemes.

They had a row of six beer bottles that contained a mixture of lighter fluid and the rest of Bill’s shitty vodka with strips of the cannibalized tourist shirt peaking out of the mouths. Bill and Babe stood facing the street, lighters in hand. 

“Aim for the entrance to the store and throw ‘em fast.” Was all the instruction Bill gave. 

“Ready?”

At Babe’s nod, they were off, stooping down to light the frayed ends of cloth. Babe’s first bottle burnt his hand and landed in the middle of the crowd. It was like liquid fire. As soon as the bottle burst against the zeke’s head, it sent a rain of fire over the neighboring zekes. Babe could see the beauty of it. The krauts didn’t give a damn about the fire or being burnt so they didn’t try to get away. The whole crowd would be a nice toasty bonfire, too entranced by the wailing alarm to even consider movie.

“Keep throwing!” Bill commanded, chucking his second bottle into the crowd. “We need to get the front on fire!”

Babe’s third bottle hit the mark. It shattered against the doorframe and had the zekes catching like dry wood. They stood and watched as the fire consumed the rest of the krauts and made its way into the store.

Bill tugged him behind the chimney, peeking around the brick to keep an eye on the store. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

The fire was licking along the busted door frame, exactly like Bill wanted. Babe’s body was vibrating, ready to _move_.

“Let’s go Bill, c’mon-“

In between Babe’s insistent tugging on Bill’s jacket and his pleas to leave, the fire in the store ignited, sudden and bright. And then, with a burst of sound that left Babe’s ears ringing, the roof shot skywards.

The blast rocked in every direction, sending pieces of insulation, plaster, and body parts raining down around them. The zekes fell back like dominoes, looking more like fucked up firewood than ex-people.

“Oh my God, it worked!” Bill gasped out between crazy bursts of laughter, “I can’t believe it fuckin’ _worked_!”

Babe just gaped at the steaming hole in the ground.

oOo

Bill’s plan ended up being brilliant in more ways than one. 

Because the alarm had rung all night, it’d called all the krauts in the area. And then, since Bill had blown all of them up, the streets were blessedly clear and they could get down to the bike and peddle away in relative peace. 

That didn’t stop Bill from nearly pushing Babe off the roof in his haste to get to the street. Babe climbed down in a haze, relying on upper body strength and prayer. Bill was already down the street and tugging the bike away from the chain-link fence when Babe’s feet touched the overgrown grass. 

He stumbled over the scraggly lawn to where Bill was kicking at the flimsy metal.

“Hurry the fuck up Babe! I don’t want to stick around to find out if any zekes are late to this party.”

Most of Babe’s brain was dedicated to replaying the explosion over and over again, so all he managed was a weak nod to Bill as he tore the bike free and swung a leg over the seat.

Bill patted the metal contraption over the back tire with a wink, “C’mon, ‘Babe’, take a seat.”

They biked away from the carnage and looped through the suburb before merging onto an old freeway. Babe couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation as Bill turned them down a road that ran along the Chesapeake. After months of not knowing what had happened to his city, his _family_ , he was mere hours away from finding out. The worse had been ruled out, when their driver had told them about the contact with the inner city people. Babe could only hope his people were there too. 

He was still stuck on the “can’t believe it worked” line and managed to weasel from Bill that the last time he’d tried something like this, it hadn’t gone to plan. ‘Lieb, who ever that was, nearly lost an arm from the botched explosion and they’d both almost been eaten.

Babe was just glad that Bill had retained his inner ten-year old need to set everything on fire. 

oOo

The road was mostly devoid of cars. It looked like someone had taken the time to go through and steer each and every one of them off the road. They passed by a wreck, a car crunched up against the barrier, its back end still in the lane. Babe caught a glimpse of the political bumper stickers for the upcoming election covering the bumper.

He pulled at Bill’s jacket , “Hey-”

“What?” Bill didn’t take his eyes off the road. “There a zeke?”

“Nah.” He pointed to the car. “Remember that bullshit?”

“You mean the fuckin’ pre-civil war shit that was goin’ down?” Bill shook his head. “Streets’ mighta looked like this anyways.”

Babe didn’t have anything to say to that. 

The road eventually spat them out at the bridge that Babe had eyed earlier this week. Bill biked them up a comfortable distance before telling Babe to get off. Just like all the other bridges, there were sandbags stacked up strategically, weaving across the traffic lines. They carefully made their way through the piles, until they reached the edge. Bill settled against the bags once he deemed it safe enough and dug through his pack for food. Babe deliberately leaned the bike up on the bags next to them, within reach. Even if getting it stolen the first time had led to Bill, Babe wasn’t eager to repeat the initial panic and near death experiences that preceded him. 

A glow settled over the landscape as the sun peaked. The light sparkled over the dirty water and glinted against the glass of the buildings. Babe tilted his head back and basked. If it weren’t for the gaping hole in the middle of the bridge and the fact they were sitting in the middle of a _highway_ , he could almost pretend it was a normal day. 

The skeletal remains of the bridge’s iron trusses stretched across the gap, just like they had a few days before. He couldn’t believe he’d thought about climbing across it. The beams creaked and groaned above them with the wind and the drop was already dizzying from road height. The pin-pricks of exhilaration tingled through him and his limbs felt fuzzy and light just from imagining it. He couldn’t begin to think how he would feel if he was up there for real. 

“What’re you thinkin’ so goddamn hard about?” Bill said through a mouthful of chips.

“I thought about climbing across this a few days ago.”

Laughter bubbled out of Bill, so fast and loud that he had to muffle it in his jacket and Babe’s cheeks flamed.

“Too fuckin’ funny.” Bill said after he’d calmed down.

Babe gave an awkward chuckle, “Yeah…”

Bill pinned him with a look, “You’re serious?”

“I-”

“You’re actually serious. Why the fuck would you do that?” Bill talked over him.

“To get across the river.” Babe said slowly. 

Bill looked like a fuse blew in his brain.

“-but you took my bike, so obviously I didn’t-”

“It was a good thing I did! Jesus Christ, I didn’t think you were this fuckin’ dumb. Weren’t you here when shit went down?! Or did you forget what happened?”

“I-” 

And Babe was caught. Because it wasn’t like he’d pretended he’d been here, in the city. He’d never said that. But he had played at being a survivor. At being competent. He wasn’t dumb. He knew the useless kid died first, or got left or something. He knew Bill wouldn’t stick around if he had an inkling of how ‘green’ Babe really was. 

Bill stared at him, probably putting together the pieces faster than Babe could fabricate a cover up. The silence ate away at him, turning his stomach inside out as Bill tore him down with his eyes. 

It was quiet at first. So quiet that if it weren’t for the tense silence, they might not have heard it until it was too late. But it was there, a low, sputtering roar that filled up the air. 

Bill went from tense to absolutely rigid in mere seconds. 

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ -” 

“What _is_ that?” 

Bill ignored him, swearing and scrambling to get everything back in his bag.

Babe kind of already knew. There wasn’t much it _could_ be, but he look anyway. And there it was. The biggest crowd of infected Babe had ever seen, swarming up the street, crawling over cars and covering the land like a flood. That wasn’t even the crazy part though. 

There was a guy. Maybe about twenty feet ahead of the fastest zekes, limbs blurring as he sprinted. And he was turning on to bridge. A deep, horrible thing in Babe wanted to scream at the guy, wanted to tell him to turn the fuck around and run somewhere else, ruin someone else’s apocalypse.

All he managed to say, quiet and hoarse, was: “Bill, they’re on the bridge.” 

He couldn’t tell if the swearing got louder or more creative. He couldn’t tell if the dull roar in his ears was his blood rushing or the zekes. They were cornered. Backed up against a drop that could kill them and a river that could drown them. Up against a fucking _army_ of zekes that would definitely eat them. They only had one option.

“Bill-” 

Bill wasn’t listening. He was frantically looking around the bridge, calculating and subsequently rejecting their escape options. When they locked eyes, Babe knew Bill had come to the same conclusion as him. 

“Bill, we gotta climb the bridge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha fuck u steve
> 
> lmao its been a whole year and we're still at the beginning.


End file.
